


These Hands Not Fit For Holding

by MiniMangaFan



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Curses, Fantasy, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 05:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 46,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6410053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiniMangaFan/pseuds/MiniMangaFan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You should be grateful,” Harry tells him, leaning in so he’s almost whispering in Louis’ ear. Louis stands as still as a statue, trying not to react when Harry’s low voice caresses his cheek. “I’m offering you something better: a chance to join my crew. I’ll pay you to work as a carpenter on my ship.”</p><p>“I’m not a fucking pirate,” Louis says, anger flaring. He steals little trinkets occasionally, if he thinks they’ll make his sisters happy. He’s not a proper thief, or a murderer, though, and certainly not on the level of Captain Styles and his crew.</p><p>Or, Harry is the captain of a pirate ship, and Louis is an accidental stowaway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Hands Not Fit For Holding

**Author's Note:**

> i... cannot believe i'm actually posting this, honestly. from the start, this fic was kind of a nightmare but I've genuinely loved writing it and am really glad to be sharing it!
> 
> so shout out time:
> 
> \- a huge thank you to sheena [conscious--ramblings](http://conscious--ramblings.tumblr.com/) and reagan [thestagandship](http://thestagandship.tumblr.com/) for beta'ing this fic for me. both of their edits & comments were extremely useful and i'm so unbelievably grateful to them.
> 
> \- thank you to the mods for running the [big bang](http://1dbigbang.tumblr.com/). this is my first 1d big bang and i've had a fab time, so fingers crossed for one next year
> 
> \- thanks to harry & louis for having a love of nautical imagery that lends itself so fucking well to a pirate au
> 
> \- and finally, a huge fucking thanks to alex [louehvolution](http://louehvolution.tumblr.com/) for the truly brilliant art and edits that have been included & linked in this fic. alex is so talented and i'm so flattered to have such beautiful works to accompany this fic.
> 
> it should be pointed out that this verse is not that historically accurate. it's a mash-up of ancient greece, 17th century greece, and whatever i felt was needed to make the story work, but hey, it's a fantasy fic so 
> 
> title from florence + the machine - hiding
> 
> translation into spanish [here](https://www.wattpad.com/240264735-these-hands-not-fit-for-holding-larry-stylinson) by [cigarettesbeerandtea](http://cigarettesbeerandtea.tumblr.com/)
> 
> enjoy!

Sweat drips down Louis’ back as he saws at the block of wood clamped in place, splinters flying with the motion. He works until the block is cut in equal halves, ready to be sanded down and shaped again. The ache in his arms won’t fade until he’s finished up his shift in the carpenter’s, so he ignores it for now. He sets the saw down and brushes sawdust from his clothes.

“When you’re finished with that order I need you to clean the equipment,” Ben calls out from across the room, pausing his conversation with the customers to address Louis.

“Will do,” Louis yells back, wiping the sweat off his forehead and no doubt leaving dirt in his place. There’s always something to be done here, whether it’s making and repairing furniture, counting inventory or cleaning the equipment. It’s strenuous but it keeps Louis busy and, mostly, out of trouble. He just wishes it weren’t so fucking hot in the workshop, even indoors out of the sun.

The order is simple; two simple wooden chairs and a stool to go with them. It’s the kind of order Louis gets all the time from the people on this island. Today, though, he’s putting them together for a naval ship that’s stopped for repairs. He handles it as quickly as he could, which still isn’t very quick considering he’s been working since sunrise, and takes what needs to be cleaned closer to Ben. It’s cooler over there, near the draught from the door.

“Saw it meself,” one of the men is saying, leaning in towards Ben like he’s trying to be inconspicuous. Louis resists the urge to roll his eyes; seamen are just as gossipy as the women they condemn for the same acts. “The black flags of a pirate ship, and that Jolly Roger with the rose, that can only be one pirate, I assure you. Styles is in port.”

“Styles?” Ben lifts his brows, tapping his quill against the faded paper. “It’s been a long time since he docked here. Any idea on what he’s after?”

“Oh, to loot some villages, I’m sure,” the other officer chips in, seemingly bored with the idle gossip. “Pirates are all the same, you know that. Just lock your windows and don’t be so foolish as to confront one, and you’ll be fine. Unless, you have _personally_ pissed one off?”

Louis snorts, wiping the dust off the largest hammer carefully. “Ben has pissed off everyone he’s ever met,” he says, winking at Ben. “I’m sure the pirates will be coming for him soon.”

“Get back to fucking work,” Ben snaps, and Louis lifts the hammer in response, polishing it extra slowly as if he were showing a child. Ben goes back to talking with the seamen and Louis listens as he cleans, interjecting a joke here and there because he really can’t help himself.

When he finishes cleaning, he does inventory, adds an extra coat of resin to the furniture, and prepares the blueprints for the next day. It’s dark by the time he’s finally good to go home, and he takes his wages for the day from Ben gratefully.

The market between the carpenter’s and his mother’s home is still thriving as he walks through it. Unlike the shopping mothers and young children of the morning, adult men and their alcohol are now browsing the stalls on their way to the pubs. Guards stalk the sidelines, keeping an eye on the men to make sure they don’t get too rowdy.

Louis wanders along in the crowds, peering at what’s on sale and mentally calculating if he can actually spare any coin this week. The two lonely drachma in his pocket say no, but the strip of pretty silk fabric on the edge of the table is calling for him to buy it.

“How much for the silk ribbon?” Louis asks the seller, a tired looking woman who probably just wants to go home already. The markets on the last day of the week are never easy. Louis knows, he used to work at one before Ben offered him a job at the carpenter’s.

“A tetradrachm, dear,” she says, holding it up so the light from the dying candles illuminates the soft pink. “Brought in from the edges of the world. Material of this quality isn’t cheap.”

“Four whole drachma,” Louis whistles, low. He doesn’t even have that much on him, let alone enough money to spare. Food takes priority, and even though spring is just ending, they’re always saving money for winter. Still, his sisters have been lamenting the lack of nice things, and Louis always tries to do what he can, being the primary source of income for their family. “How about two?”

“Two!” The woman shrieks with laughter, tossing her head back and almost knocking into the man next to her. She sets the ribbon back in place and snorts. “Not a chance in this lifetime. If you can’t afford to pay, stop wasting my time.”

“Fine,” Louis snaps, brows furrowing. It’s just the kind of pretty ribbon Charlotte would adore, so if Louis can’t afford to buy it… “Oh, by the way, I think your candle is about to fall over.”

The woman snaps her head around, making a confused noise when she sees that the candle isn’t anywhere close to falling over, but at that point, Louis’ grabbed the ribbon and is walking briskly away from the stall.

He reaches the edge of the crowd, palms sweating and getting the ribbon damp in his clenched hand, when he hears a piercing shriek. “ _That little thief!”_ the woman screeches, and the heavy footfalls of guards pick up.

Louis breaks out into a run, taking the nearest turning he can away from the well-lit marketplace to the darker parts of their town. He runs along the cobblestones and fights his instincts to go home, forcing himself to go in the direction of the docks where there’ll be somewhere to hide. His heart hammers too loudly for him to listen out for guards properly, but he runs like they’re hot on his tail anyway. All for a stupid ribbon.

When the docks come into view, Louis almost sobs with relief. There are a few ships anchored in port, but it’s too dark to make them out and Louis doesn’t even think before rushing down the pathway to the wooden boxes in front of the largest. It’s not a navy ship, he can tell that much at least, which probably means it’s a merchant’s and the crates will be empty, read to be loaded up tomorrow. He can hide in one of them until he’s sure the guards have gone, before making the trek home.

He hops into the last crate, furthest away from the path leading up to the hill to the village. The lid is easy to reposition when Louis’ tucked away inside, his own breathing the loudest thing in his surroundings. Trying to even it out proves too hard, what with the rush of energy flooding his body, so he holds his breath and listens carefully.

There aren’t any footsteps or metallic clanks of swords. Nothing but the gentle swell of waves under the piers, and the distant sounds of singing coming from the tavern. Louis exhales in a rush, letting his head fall against the wooden crate, his knees tucked against his chest.

He made it. He’s a fucking idiot, but he made it.

Something sweet-smelling tickles his nose, and Louis finally takes notice of what was inside the crate. It’s not empty, like he expected it to be. Instead, there are piles of overly sweet flowers, something Louis has never smelt before in his life. There aren’t many, just enough to cover the bottom of the crate, so Louis picks one up and holds it in front of his face, inspecting it curiously. Barely any moonlight streaks through the gaps between the wood, so Louis can’t determine a colour in the twilight-hue clouding his vision, but the petals are soft against his calloused fingers. The longer he stares at the flower, the hazier his mind gets, until he sniffs the seeds in the centre of the bud and coughs sharply, the sweetness turning sickly as it burns his nostrils.

“What the fuck,” he coughs, his voice slurring as the flower and the ribbon drop from his grasp, and his limbs start to feel like iron attached to his body. He needs to get out of here, this suffocating perfume is making him drowsy and he desperately needs to get out of this crate, but the second he goes to stand, his eyes give out and his world turns black.

***

Louis wakes up with his face pressed into the floor of the crate, the world rolling underneath him. He blinks the last remnants of sleep from his eyes and covers his mouth with the hand not trapped under his torso, nausea coiling in his gut.

Weakly, he pushes himself up into a sitting position, his head bumping against the top of the crate. He vaguely remembers hiding yesterday, and stealing the fucking ribbon for Charlotte, and… something he can’t concentrate on right now because he’s actually going to be sick any second.

The lid of the crate is easily removed, thank the gods, and Louis inhales the clean air. It’s only once he’s climbed out and steadying himself on the wooden edging when he realises he’s not actually outside at the docks, but in a sparsely furnished storage room of some kind. There are five other crates, all the same size as the one Louis hid in, and nothing else. The only light in the room is creeping in from underneath the single door on the opposite wall.

When the ground lurches again, and Louis grips the crate for balance, a worrying suspicion starts clawing at the edges of his mind. He’s never been on a boat before, but if he had to imagine what it would be like to sail on the seas, the uneasy drift over powerful waves, he thinks it’d be something like this.

Stumbling out of the room is Louis’ only option unless he wants to be sick all over the crates, so that’s what he does, keeping one hand on the door frame as he pokes his head out. The corridor is long and lit by a hole in the ceiling over a wooden ladder, a breeze coming from that direction. Louis hurries towards it, tripping over his own feet with the sway of the boat and his unsettled stomach.

On the floor above, there’s just another long corridor, a little narrower this time with more rooms leading off. Louis doesn’t think about exploring, just climbs up the ladder again until he’s breathing in actual, genuine, fresh air and there’s wind blowing his hair over his face.

“Who the fuck are you?” Someone shouts, and Louis angles his head around to see a group of men staring at him from the right side of the deck. His gaze locks on to the pistols hanging at their waists, and Louis climbs the rest of the way up, lifting his hands uncertainly. These men are not dressed like navy men or merchants, and he’s certainly not at the docks anymore.

“Louis,” he replies, his voice hoarse. He clears his throat. “My name’s Louis.”

“What are you doing here, Louis?” another man asks cautiously, dark hair tucked away under a washed-out bandana. He doesn’t look angry, or like he’s about to throw Louis overboard, thank God. The men just seem curious and mostly confused.

“I don’t know,” Louis admits. “I think this is a mistake.”

“Well I certainly didn’t invite you on board, Louis,” comes a third, deeper voice. Louis whips his body around and sees a tall man leaning against the left side of the deck, a couple of metres from where Louis’ standing. Brown curls spill over his shoulders, and his loose white shirt is open at the neck and tucked into tight brown trousers. The man’s body is adorned by rings, necklaces and trinkets, a lazy smile curls the man’s lips. Louis would bet his life on this man being a pirate.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Louis croaks, running to the edge of the deck and throwing up overboard. His stomach lurches as the ship sways, propelled forwards by the wind rushing against the sails.

“Never travelled on a ship before?” the pirate asks when Louis has finished throwing up and is clinging to the wooden railing like his legs are about to give out. He rests his forehead against the railing and squeezes his eyes shut. It doesn’t help.

“Can’t say that I have,” Louis says. He expected to feel better after being sick, but he’s still nauseous and woozy as the ship continues to rock.

The pirate moves closer to Louis, cocking his hip as he watches him curiously. “How did you end up on mine then?”

Louis’ acutely aware of the rest of the men – crew, probably – openly watching them, and a cold shiver runs down his spine. He’s strong from his years working as a carpenter, but there’s no way he can fight off this many pirates. Definitely not when they’ll fight dirty.

“I had to hide in one of your crates,” Louis says, lifting his head and trying to sound like he’s not about to pass out. He already looks pathetic, it’s the least he can do. “The flowers, they must be drugged or something because they knocked me out. No one must have checked before I was loaded on with the rest of your... cargo.”

The pirate tugs at a curl as Louis speaks, nodding slowly in thought when Louis finishes. Turning sharply, he looks to his men. “Who loaded the ship this morning?”

The blond man who first questioned Louis raises his hand, shrugging. “Me and Liam. Didn’t think to check considering we checked in the evening. Must’ve been before Louis decided to stow away, Cap.”

His accent is unfamiliar, but the way he speaks to the pirate is kind of like how Louis speaks to Ben sometimes, as if he’s teasing a friend rather than addressing a boss. The difference is, the worst Ben could do was fire Louis; this pirate, the captain presumably, could have the man thrown overboard.

The captain hums, and turns back to Louis, eyeing him up critically. “What to do with you then?” he asks, mostly to himself. When he taps his chin with his fingers, the metal rings glint in the sunlight, and Louis realises he doesn’t even know what time it is. There’s no land disrupting the horizon, they’re at open sea now, leagues away from Louis’ island.

“You could take me home,” Louis suggests, finding courage he wasn’t too sure he had. “I’m just a carpenter from a small village who ended up here by mistake. I don’t want any trouble.”

The captain’s brows lift, eyes widening with interest. “A carpenter? You don’t look like one. Too…” he trails off, dragging his gaze over Louis’ body. He’s still in his work clothes, damp with sweat and coated in a thick layer of sawdust. “Slim to be a carpenter.”

“Well I am,” Louis says, unsure of where this pirate is going.

“We’ve travelled too far to take you home,” the pirate says, and Louis’ heart stops cold. “I won’t turn this ship around now.”

“Why not?” Louis demands, frantic. He needs to get home. His family must be terrified and Ben will be pissed that he hasn’t turned up for work yet. Shit, his entire life is in that tiny village. “You’re the captain, aren’t you?”

“I am,” the pirate says, his lips curling into a smile. “Captain Harry Styles. Pleasure to meet you, Louis.”

“Oh fuck,” Louis hisses, louder than he intended as someone in the crew on the other side of the ship cackles sharply. Of all the pirate ships on the seas, he ends up on Captain fucking Styles’. “Can’t you at least spare me a small boat, so I can row back to the island?”

“We’ve been sailing all morning,” Harry says, dashing Louis’ hopes. “There’s no way you’d make it. And just to set your mind at ease, I won’t throw you overboard for the sharks, either.”

“Oh great, thanks,” Louis snaps on instinct, biting his lip when he realises that he said it out loud. He’s going to get himself killed by fucking pirates because he can’t hold his tongue.

“You should be grateful,” Harry tells him, leaning in so he’s almost whispering in Louis’ ear. Louis stands as still as a statue, trying not to react when Harry’s low voice caresses his cheek. “I’m offering you something better: a chance to join my crew. I’ll pay you to work as a carpenter on my ship.”

“I’m not a fucking pirate,” Louis says, anger flaring. He steals little trinkets occasionally, if he thinks they’ll make his sisters happy. He’s not a proper thief, or a murderer, though, and certainly not on the level of Captain Styles and his crew.

“D’you have a family, Louis?” Harry asks, pulling away and smiling sweetly. “People you want to look after and provide for? I can pay you twice whatever you’d earn at home. You don’t have to do anything but look after my ship and its equipment. It might go beyond being a carpenter when you have to look after our swords and guns, but there’ll be no piracy if you don’t want it.”

“You mean willingly taking care of the weapons you use to kill people?” Louis scoffs. “I won’t work for you.”

“I’ve never killed a man in my life, Louis,” Harry says sincerely, as if that will be enough for Louis to believe him. Pirates murder innocent people, they’re pretty damn capable of _lying_.

“Like I’m gonna believe that,” Louis replies.

“What’s your alternative?” Harry persists. Louis doesn’t know why he hasn’t dropped this yet, but the easy, pirate façade isn’t slipping, irritatingly enough. “We drop you off at our next port and you’ll what? Find someone who’ll take you back to your island out of the goodness of their own heart? How much do you even have right now?”

The two drachma in Louis’ pockets weren’t even enough to buy him a silk ribbon, let alone travel from one island to the next. He doesn’t even know where this ship is heading, he’d have nowhere to stay, nothing to eat or drink, and he’d be in just as much danger of being attacked on land in a foreign city than he would on this ship. Louis doesn’t believe that Harry has never killed anyone, he’s an infamous pirate for gods’ sake, but if he wanted Louis dead, he’s had plenty of opportunity.

“Do I get any time to think on it?” Louis asks, though he suspects he knows what his answer will be.

“We won’t be docking anywhere for another day, so you can have until tomorrow evening,” Harry says. He leans in again, even closer this time, one hand coming to grasp Louis’ wrist. His skin is warm and tanned, inked with black designs that stand bold against his flesh. “Be open-minded, Louis, you might end up liking the pirate life after all.”

Louis tears his wrist away, a flush creeping up his cheeks. No one seems to be watching them now, the crew dispersed a long while ago, but Louis feels exposed under Harry’s heated gaze. “I doubt that very much.”

“We’ll see about that,” Harry says, smirking. “If you decide to stay, and I advise that you do, you’ll be working with Liam and teaching him what you know. Come with me and I’ll introduce you. He can see that you get settled from there.”

Louis arches a brow. “You’ve got important business to attend that takes priority over me, I presume.”

“I have a feeling that you’ll be very important, Louis,” Harry says, a low drawl that makes Louis’ skin prickle uncomfortably. “But yes, a captain’s life isn’t as simple as you’d think.”

“I’m sure,” Louis mutters, and lets Harry guide him towards the front of the ship. Half the crew seem to have disappeared from the top deck completely, leaving a handful of men sitting around on the lookout spots, near the steering wheel, and further back watching the waves behind the ship.

Liam is checking the knots in the rope keeping the sails tied to the ship when Harry approaches him, tapping him on the shoulder and introducing Louis.

“He’ll be joining our crew, hopefully,” Harry says when Liam’s clapped Louis on the shoulder as a greeting. “Give him a tour of the ship, make a good impression.” With a flourish of a wave, Harry’s off back towards the ladder going down into the lower levels.

“So you’ve never been on a ship before?” Liam asks, leaning against the tall mast, just like Harry did, though Liam has a lot less grace.

“No,” Louis says curtly. “No, I’ve never left my village before.”

“Never fancied travelling?” Liam asks, and Louis hesitates. It’d be a lie to say he’d never dreamed of exploring other cities, of visiting new places and meeting new people; his father was a sailor and when he’d come home and share his stories with Louis, he was fascinated by all of them. It’s just never been doable for him. Not when he had his family to provide for. “Well, you’ll get plenty of chance for that now that you’re with us,” Liam continues when Louis doesn’t answer. “How’re you feeling?”

“Shaken,” Louis murmurs, before he realises Liam probably meant how Louis is feeling after he threw up. “I don’t think I’m gonna throw up again.”

“That’s good!” Liam smiles, and Louis tries not to frown in response. This man is supposed to be a pirate on one of the most infamous ships around right now, but he looks like an overexcited puppy. To say it’s confusing is an understatement. “It helps to keep your eye on the horizon if you start feeling woozy again.”

Louis looks out to the open waters, focusing his eyes where the sea touches the sky. The effect isn’t instantaneous, but the longer Louis stares, the better he feels. He doesn’t get why Liam’s helping him, or why he’s acting so friendly, but Louis has known liars in his life and he knows they’re good at pretending. Accept the kindness, he thinks, but don’t let his guard down.

“Why does Styles need a carpenter?” Louis questions, turning back to Liam. “There must be a dozen men on this ship, and no one can take care of it?”

“There’s a lot more than a dozen of us,” Liam clarifies, pushing up the sleeves of his loose-fitting shirt and revealing inked arms. Louis catches sight of a skull – very typical pirate – before he tears his gaze away. “We’ve all got our skillsets, but no one specialises in metal or woodwork. We do an alright job at maintaining the ship, but I think Harry figures you can do a better job. This ship is his life, you know?”

“Can’t say that I do,” Louis says, brushing his hair from his face. He’s been meaning to get it cut since it gets in his eyes while he works. “I hope you realise I specialise with wood, not metal. I’m a good carpenter, but not some genius like Styles seems to think.”

“Harry’s got good instincts,” Liam tells him, his face open and earnest. The fact that he’s the type of person Louis would probably like back at home only serves to unsettle him further. “He’s good at reading people, ‘s part of what makes him such a good captain. Just trust him.”

“Trust a pirate? Right.” Louis rolls his eyes. “Why don’t I trust a shark not to eat me? Or a vendor not to rip me off?”

Liam’s eyes widen, startled at Louis’ sudden outburst. “We’re not all that bad, mate. But c’mon, I’ll give you the tour of the ship and then it’ll probably be time for lunch. You must be hungry, right?”

As soon as Liam mentions food, Louis’ feels the nausea in his stomach rear its ugly head. “I don’t think I can stomach food right now.”

Liam claps Louis on the back again, causing Louis to stumble forwards, his balance already off-kilter with the rocking of the ship. “Maybe you’ll feel better with some movement. Let’s go.”

***

The tour of the ship consists of way too many new names and faces, and Louis tries to keep up – he remembers First Mate Niall, the blond man with the unfamiliar accent, and the dark haired man with the pretty eyes, Zayn. Liam tells him all the technical parts of the ship’s structure and what each room is for – there’s a pantry and a makeshift kitchen and an office-stroke-bedroom that belongs to Harry while the rest of the crew are split in three much smaller bedrooms. Louis tries to take note of what things look like they’ll need repairs – there’s a lot – but Liam often moves too quickly for Louis to get a firm grasp on things.

Louis avoids the rest of the crew while they eat lunch, too unsure of his standing on the ship right now to cope with so many other people. Liam directs him to the sleeping quarters where Louis curls up on an empty hammock and tries not to breakdown. His body feels too hot and his clothes stick to his skin uncomfortably, and he’s so frustrated he wants to scream. That stupid fucking ribbon caused all this mess, and now he doesn’t even have it anymore, lost it somewhere between leaving the crate and meeting the crew. Harry’s offer is looming over his head and it’s too much to think about right now. Leaving his family and home to work on a pirate ship isn’t something Louis thought he’d ever consider, and he’d flat out say no if it weren’t for the money.

Louis stays in the quarters until it’s dark and there’s a thunderous laughter echoing down the corridors. He stretches out the stiffness from his limbs and slips off the bed, following the source of the noise. It leads him back up the ladders and on to the top deck, where someone’s foot almost collides with his head.

“Oh buggering hell, sorry, mate.” The voice – Niall, Louis identifies – slurs. In the next instant, Louis’ being lifted upright and Niall’s leaning on his shoulder, a half-empty green bottle in his free hand. He stinks of rum, and Louis’ comforted to know that at least _this_ pirate rumour seems to be true. “Watch where you stick that thing.” He jabs at Louis’ head, then spots someone on the opposite side of the deck, in the dark. “Harry! Hazza! Come _here_!”

Harry walks over – swaggers would be more accurate, his body moving fluidly in time with the ship. He flashes a brilliant smile at Louis and takes the bottle from Niall’s loose grip, swallowing a large mouthful and wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

“Louis, have a drink,” Harry says, offering him the bottle. Louis takes it from him and stares at the contents skeptically. He’s not eaten all day and he doesn’t know these people, he doesn’t trust them as far as he can throw them. Getting drunk and losing control sounds like the opposite of a good idea. “It’s not poison,” Harry adds, winking. “I give you my word.”

“Because that means so much,” Louis scoffs. He takes a sip, wincing at the bitter taste of the rum, and passes it back to Niall who accepts it gratefully. He stumbles off into the centre of the deck, linking hands with Zayn and getting him to dance to the song Liam and Julian, Louis thinks the long haired, bearded pirate was called, are singing.

“It’ll help you loosen up,” Harry says, leaning in so his rum-tinged breath brushes across Louis’ cheek. Clearly, Harry has a problem understanding personal space.

“Do you do this every night?” Louis asks instead of countering Harry’s comment. He moves backwards, towards the wooden railings under the guise of looking up at the stars. They’re brighter than he’s ever seen before, twinkling in an intricate design. “It must be quite the life.”

“Yes, we get pissed every single evening of every single day,” Harry answers, surprising Louis with the sarcasm lacing his words. Harry slots himself beside Louis, close enough that their elbows touch. “It’s good to blow off some steam every now and then. These men aren’t just my crew, they’re my friends. Family, even.”

“So why do you want me to join then, if you’re so tight-knit?” Louis presses. “You can’t let just anyone into your crew, yet you offered me a place minutes into a conversation with me. I don’t get it.”

“What’s there to get?” Harry asks, turning the question around on Louis. “You have skills I’m missing in my crew. I have the money that you need to provide for your family. It’s beneficial to both of us, and I’m good at reading people, Louis. You’d fit with us, I can tell. Just because I’m a pirate, doesn’t mean I have ulterior motives all the time.”

“You’re not just any pirate,” Louis laughs, his hair ruffling in the sea breeze. Harry lifts his brows in question. “I’ve heard the stories about Captain Styles and _The Rose_. The villages you’ve burnt to the ground, the riches you’ve stolen, the terror you instil into innocent civilians. Everyone knows about you, so forgive me for not believing everything you say.”

“I have quite the reputation, I’m aware,” Harry concedes, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. The earring dangling there glints in the moonlight. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear, Louis. If you’re worried about your safety, I can promise you that no harm will come to you on my ship, no matter how long you stay.”

Frustration scratches at Louis’ throat, spilling off his tongue. “And how do I know you’re not lying?” He can’t bring himself to trust a word that Harry says, no matter how sincere he may sound, and that’s terrifying.

“You’ll just have to find some faith,” Harry says, lifting his arms in a shrug. “I want you to take me up on my offer. I want you as part of my crew.”

Louis bites the knuckle of his thumb as he thinks, staring over the edge of the boat and into the black sea. His head is no clearer now than it was this morning, when Harry first offered him the deal, but there’s one thing it comes down to: money.

“If I accept your offer and become a member of your crew, I need you to promise me some things,” Louis starts, finding his voice. “That I will have no involvement in your piracy whatsoever. That if I decide to leave at any point, you can’t stop me. And we go back to my village the next time it’s even remotely possible, so I can see my family. Even if I leave again the next day.”

“Done,” Harry says, extending his hand towards Louis.

Louis takes it, shaking hands and trying not to focus on how his hand fits neatly inside Harry’s, the warmth of his skin sending a pleasant flush through Louis’ body. The effortless charm is unsettling and even though Harry doesn’t _feel_ threatening right now, Louis can’t help but worry how quickly the tables might turn.

“Welcome aboard,” Harry grins, his eyes lighting up in the dark hue of the night. “You’ll like it here, Louis. You’re not made for a quaint life in a small village, never going anywhere or doing anything. You’ve got the ocean in your eyes.”

“And you’ve deduced that from my day on board?” Louis snorts. “I’m not falling for your lines, no matter how smooth you talk.”

That makes Harry laugh, a squawk of laughter that’s the complete opposite of the deep chuckle Louis anticipated from Harry. It makes him sound young, like he’s too caught up in his own amusement to act like a sinister pirate. It’s endearing.

“I’ll have to work on my subtlety then,” Harry says. A chorus of song rises up from where the rest of the crew are still dancing, sharing too many bottles of rum to count between themselves and stomping their feet in time with a beat Louis doesn’t recognise. Harry starts to hum along, swaying with the rhythm. “Come join us,” he says, taking Louis’ hand and dragging him over to the group, “you’re a member of the crew now, you should join in the festivities.”

Louis bites his lip. He’s had an exhausting day but if he’s going to work on this ship, he needs to befriend the rest of the crew at some point. Maybe he does need to loosen up and lose some inhibitions. He doesn’t have to go wild, just enough that he’s not so caught up in associating with _pirates._

“One drink,” he says, taking the bottle Harry has snatched from Liam. “Just one drink.”

“One drink’s a good start,” Harry grins. Louis knocks back a swig of the rum, the alcohol burning his throat but offering a warm respite from the cool sea air.

Niall knocks into Louis’ back then, singing some song about a lass he left on the shore with a surprisingly soft voice, and Louis joins in as best he can. Niall makes it his personal mission to teach Louis all the words to the songs, and by the end of the night, Louis’ had a few more drinks than just the one, and his voice is hoarse from all the singing.

***

Breakfast seems to be much quieter than lunch was the day before. Louis was woken up by Liam, who slept in the hammock above his, and is now sitting between Liam and Niall near the middle of the long dining table towards the front of the ship. The whole table is stocked with salted meats and loaves of bread, so Louis loads his plate high after eating so little the day before. Niall hasn’t said much since Louis sat down, rubbing his temples underneath and groaning sporadically.

“Feeling rough?” Louis asks, though it’s obvious what the answer is. Louis isn’t feeling too bad, his head’s not fuzzy and his body is adjusting to the gentle swell of the sea now. If the weather gets rough, Louis’ sure he’ll be heaving over the side of the ship again though.

“I feel like death.” Niall reaches for a loaf of bread and tears off a chunk, chewing it grumpily. “Never again.”

“That’s what you always say,” Zayn chips in from across the table. Niall sticks his middle finger up at Zayn and Louis laughs. The sour expression on Niall’s face is too funny not to laugh at. “Next time, I’ll make sure Harry doesn’t buy enough for you, yeah?”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Niall snaps, kicking Zayn under the table. Zayn breaks out into a grin, and Niall scowls, going back to eating his bread.

“Do you handle money then?” Louis asks Zayn, picking at his own bread. It’s not quite fresh anymore after so long on the ship, but it’s still good. Just as good as the food Louis would eat at home, and it’s useful for quelling the lingering nausea in his stomach.

Zayn nods, leaning forwards on his elbows. “Yep, I’m the treasurer,” he answers. The smile has dropped from his lips a bit, enough for the suspicion to appear in his eyes, but it’s not unfriendly. Just cautious. “All wealth is handled by me, and vetoed by Harry.”

“You’re one to befriend then,” Louis jokes, hoping it comes across as he means for it to.

Zayn’s smile returns, though not quite as bright, and Louis grins in response. “Just for that, I’ll be extra careful around you, Louis.”

“You’re fitting in then?” Comes Harry’s voice, popping up behind Louis and whispering in his ear. Louis jolts in his seat, accidentally throwing his hand out in surprise and whacking Liam in the arm.

“Sorry, mate,” he says to Liam, ignoring the goose bumps erupting on his skin where he can still feel Harry’s breath. He angles his head towards Harry, surprised to find that Harry doesn’t move his face away, instead, keeping it so close to Louis’ that their noses are only a few inches apart. “It seems so,” Louis replies, instinctively dropping his voice to a whisper so it matches Harry’s.

“I’m glad,” Harry says, splaying his ring-clad fingers on his thigh where he’s crouching to be at Louis’ height while he sits. Louis doesn’t let his gaze linger on the curve of Harry’s thighs, or the softness to his curls even out on the sea. He keeps his eyes locked with Harry’s, and is faced with the glittering darkness of them. “I’ll save the ‘I told you so’ for later.”

“You never know,” Louis replies, speaking without thinking, “by lunch everyone might be sick of me. You’ll have no ground to stand on then.”

Harry laughs softly, blinking and looking away. “I doubt that,” he says, and stands, wincing as he stretches and his back cracks. Louis shoots him a look when the sound makes his fingers curl. “Sore back,” he explains.

“Dunno how,” Niall says, paying attention to them now that Zayn’s talking with an unknown-to-Louis man sitting next to him. “You’re the one with the bed after all, and no one else has a fucked back.”

“I’m a sensitive soul,” Harry says, tapping the back of Niall’s head.

He goes to sit at the head of the table, between Julian and another person Louis’ not familiar with, so Louis turns back to Liam. He’s finishing up his food, so Louis stuffs the rest of his bread in his mouth and follows when Liam gestures to.

“So Harry’s mentioned a few times that he thinks there might be something up with parts of the masts. As in, they could be getting weak,” Liam says as they walk down the long corridor and up on to the top deck where the sun is already high and beating down on the ship. Louis can feel heat prickling his skin as he climbs the ladder. “Which is something we should address sooner rather than later.”

“You’d think,” Louis mutters, shielding his eyes with his hands and looking up at the masts, adorned with off-white sails. They don’t seem to be unstable from where Louis is, but who knows on closer inspection. “You know we can’t just take the masts down if you actually want to sail? Not on the seas.”

“No, we need more time for that,” Liam agrees, “but we can reinforce bits, right?”

“I mean, we can try,” Louis says, thinking, “but if it’s rotting then there’s nothing you can do for that.”

“Hope it’s not then,” Liam comments. Louis’ inclined to agree. “The railings on the sterncastle and poop decks need to be replaced, I know that for sure.”

“Right, we’ll check out the masts then take a look at the railings,” Louis decides, looking to Liam. “What equipment do you have? I don’t know if it’s normal to have a full carpenter’s kit on a pirate ship, but do you have anything we can use? An axe? A saw?”

“Um, I think we’ve been using swords to cut driftwood when we find it,” Liam answers, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

“Swords?” Louis repeats, dumbstruck. _This_ is the crew of _The Rose_ , one of the most infamous pirate ships on the seas? “ _Why_ would you ruin your swords like that? What kind of pirates are you?”

“Well, we’re not the most put-together pirates,” Liam admits. He starts walking towards the main mast and Louis falls in line, still not over everyone on this crew using their swords to cut wood instead of actual proper equipment. “I’m mostly here for the travelling, you know?”

“You mean you’re not here for the murdering and looting and general piracy?” Louis asks, not scoffing this time, but as a genuine question. He’s so confused as to how this Liam could possibly be the killer Louis hears all pirates are.

“I’m not here for any murdering,” Liam replies, voice grave. “I wouldn’t do that. None of us would, honestly. Where are you getting that from?”

“The fact that whenever you dock in a village people don’t go out in the evening for fear of running into one of you,” Louis says. They’re at the base of the mast now, and Louis gives it a kick, waiting for it to keel over and smash the deck to pieces. The fact that it doesn’t is a good sign, at least. “I mean, you can’t blame me for being worried.”

Liam snorts, running his hand over the weathered wood of the mast. “If you’re that worried, you probably shouldn’t be so open in our conversations then. You know, just in case I decide to stab you.”

Louis stares at Liam for a long moment, watching the mock-angry frown creasing Liam’s brows falter into something more laughable. “Honestly, that just convinced me you’re not dangerous at all.”

“Great,” Liam says. “Well, let’s get a move on then, yeah? Figure out what needs fixing and what we need to pick up in the next port.”

It turns out, nothing vital needs fixing – which Louis is not-so-secretly relieved for because restructuring the ship isn’t a simple task he can do in a day, especially since he’s never done it before. They’ll need to replace the railings on a few of the decks, some of the rope needs to be swapped out for newer pieces, and if Louis was being really picky, there are a few wooden panels on the deck floor that could do with changing, but overall, the ship is in pretty decent condition. Louis makes a list with Liam for equipment to buy anyway, just in case something _does_ end up need repairing, and because they’ll need things for Louis to set up a mini carpenter-workshop too.

“So, where is the next port?” Louis asks once they’ve eaten – lunch seems to be a casual affair with people eating when they want to eat rather than a set time. “I know a few of the islands around here, but I don’t know how far we’d have to sail to get to them.”

“It’s a village on the edge of Sirna,” Liam tells him, lying back so he’s facing the sky, his arms behind his head. Louis mimics his position, throwing an arm over his eyes so he’s not blinded by the sun. He doesn’t know how the whole crew manages the heat and brightness every day. The sunlight is constantly reflecting off the water, and even though Louis’ still wearing his work uniform which is pretty thin cloth, he’s sweltering in the heat. The only reason he’s not reeking like a farm animal is because there’s enough water for everyone to wash themselves on the ship every few days, and apparently Louis’ been given his turn early.

“Is it nice?” Louis asks, wondering how it’ll differ from his village. It’s strange to not be there anymore. He misses his family like nothing else, but he can’t really handle thinking about that right now or the gaping hole in his chest will be too much.

“Never been there,” Liam replies. “Harry says it’s kind of rough, but Niall likes it. Apparently the markets there are really good, at least, that’s what Harry’s been saying. He’s pretty insistent on us going there.”

“Must be something worthwhile then,” Louis murmurs. He shuts his eyes and lets his breathing match up with the rhythm of the ship’s rocking. The wind is still gentle, and it’s a welcome relief from all of the heat. “When will we get there?”

Liam hums next to him, clearly deep in thought. “Not long before noon tomorrow. Gives us the full day and evening then, since we always spend the night in port.”

“D’you think I’ll be able to send a letter from there?” If Louis can send at least one note to his family letting him know that he’s alive and not dying any time soon, he’ll be a lot more at ease.

“Should do,” Liam tells him. “I still send letters pretty regularly, but Harry’s banned all messenger birds on board. Dunno why, he won’t say, so it’s only when we’re in port that we can manage it.”

Louis makes a low sound of acknowledgement, post-food fatigue and the heat of the sun making him lethargic. If Liam’s not moving, neither is Louis. He wriggles over so he’s in the shade of the steering wheel and shuts his eyes again; he’s got time for a kip on deck.

***

 _The Rose_ docks at Sirna not long before noon, which means Louis scrambles up into the crow’s nest at the top of the main mast to watch the tiny island come into view. He’s itching to get back on land. The endless sea is beautiful in its own right, but Louis misses the solid feel of ground underneath his feet and the jagged edges of mountains in the distance.

“What’s the plan for when we dock?” Louis asks Niall, who he dragged up the mast with him to map out the safe route on the ropes for Louis to climb.

“Pretty sure Zayn’s given Liam some money for you both to pick up the equipment you need from the market,” Niall says, slipping the telescope into a belt loop. “You better be good at bartering; Zayn doesn’t allocate Liam much ‘cause he blows it on stupid shit.”

Louis pulls a face, looking to Niall. “Like what?”

“Stuff for his lady back at home,” Niall says, grinning. “He’s a right sap. Keep him in line, will ya?”

“I’ll try,” Louis replies, neglecting to say that he’s not exactly the most careful with money himself. “Are you coming with us?”

“Nah, I’m selling some of the cargo we brought from the last port with Zayn and Julian, and then we’re gonna try and get some more fabric.” Niall grabs the edge of Louis’ dusty shirt between his fingers and holds it up, curling his lip. “This is nasty, mate, you need to change.”

Louis’ eyes widen. “You’re buying me clothes?”

“I’m making them for you,” Niall corrects. “’S what I do, I’m a tailor.”

“A tailor?” Louis echoes, shock colouring his voice. “I thought being a tailor was an insult to pirates. Tailors aren’t exactly fierce.”

Niall shrugs, letting Louis’ shirt go. “I’m good with disguises, which always comes in handy if you want to slip in somewhere unnoticed. But unless you’re loose a few screws, you’ve noticed a lot of our sea days can get pretty long without anything to do. Making clothes keeps me occupied, I like it.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Louis replies honestly. He’s just… surprised. Everything on _The Rose_ is surprising, and Louis can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not. It’s unsettling, to say the least.

“Come on, we’re almost there.” Niall slips through the ring in the centre of the crow’s nest and makes his way down to the main deck, Louis following close behind. He finds Harry and Liam near the anchor, preparing it to throw overboard.

“You don’t steer?” Louis asks Harry. He’s dressed even more extravagantly than usual today – his usual floaty shirt, tight trousers and accessories topped off with a deep red coat and thick leather belt wrapped around his narrow waist, a glittering sword hanging from the holster. Louis doesn’t have to look at it for long to see the mastery that was put into creating it, the elegant curve to the blade and the attention to detail in the intricate engravings on the handle.

Harry looks up from where he’s bent over the anchor’s chain, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. “No, Jerome is much better at bringing the ship into ports than I am. I want only the best for _The Rose_.”

“What a captain,” Louis teases, too quickly to bite his tongue and hold the comment back. Harry narrows his brows, but there’s humour in his eyes and the corner of his lips twitch, the hint of a dimple in his cheek. Louis relaxes, leaning against the railings as he waits for the ship to dock.

When the anchor’s sunk to the bottom of the sea and the ramp has been connected to the pier, Harry’s bidding them all a good day and briskly walking off the ship. No one follows him and, from what Louis can see, no one seems to think his abrupt departure is anything out of the ordinary. Everyone else is grouping off and ambling down the gangway, on to the pier, but in less than a minute, Harry’s out of sight like a man on a mission, and Louis is just shocked that no one _cares_.

“Does he always do that?” Louis hisses to Liam as they stumble down the ramp, the last two off the ship bar Jeff, who’s been delegated as the lookout for today. “Just rush off without warning anyone?”

“I guess,” Liam says, shrugging. He clearly doesn’t care in the slightest. “It’s just Harry, you know, he’s done it as long as I’ve been part of the crew.”

“And you don’t think that’s suspicious?” Louis persists, clinging to Liam’s arm as they walk because almost two days on the sea means walking on land is an actual nightmare. It feels like the first day on the boat, when the earth was rolling under Louis’ feet and he couldn’t stand still for half a second. “Like, who knows what kind of unethical shit he could be getting up to!”

Liam throws his arm around Louis’ shoulders, steadying him, and laughs. “I think you’re projecting on to Harry, mate. I’m sure he’s just checking out the markets or whatever. He’s not the kind of guy to do nasty stuff like that.”

Louis’ not convinced, but he lets it go in favour of taking in the new village. Amazingly, it’s smaller than Louis’ home village, and it’s remarkably similar. The markets are already busy with adults and young children approaching vendors’ stalls and bartering for the best price. Louis hears the crackling of fires cooking goats over spits, and the fresh smell of fish is filling the air. It’s so familiar that a pang of homesickness hits Louis with a tangible force, and he has to force himself not to dwell on it in the middle of the market.

“You know, this isn’t what I was expecting,” Liam says as he and Louis navigate the thin crowds, heading towards a small stall near the middle of the market where a large man is standing behind a table of axes, chisels and saws; everything you’d need to carve wood. “Like, the importance Harry put on this village, you’d think it’d be something a bit more… impressive?”

“Would you?” Louis asks, standing on his tip toes to get a better look at the equipment in front of the vendor over the heads of the people standing in front of them. “It’s a pretty sizeable market place, don’t you think? Especially for an island this size.”

Liam stares at Louis, taken back. “Oh mate, you’ve got no idea. This is _tiny_. You’re never gonna look at home the same once you’ve travelled.”

Louis doesn’t reply to that; he can’t think of anything to express the weird, twisting feeling in his gut, so he just stays quiet for once. It’s easier to focus on the task at hand, anyway.

The man is surprisingly easy to barter with, Louis finds. He’s got a fair bit of experience from dealing with street vendors from all the times he’s gone shopping with his mum, or visited the market on the way home from work. He’s also quicker on his feet than Liam, bouncing his counter-offers off the vendor until they’re walking away with almost a full kit Louis can work with for just under half their money.

“That was fucking impressive, mate,” Liam says once he’s handed over the coins and picked up the tools. Louis carries the axe, claiming it’s all he can carry since it’s a two-handed tool, and Liam should carry the rest.

“I’m used to it,” Louis shrugs. He raises his arms and wipes his forehead with the cloth covering his arm, sweat already beading at his temples. He’s already so hot, he could go for a quick nap under the shade of a tree. “Where next? To get some blacksmith’s supplies?”

Liam nods and starts walking further into the market. “Yeah, we’ve probably got enough money for it.”

The afternoon goes quickly, dropping by all the stalls that take their fancy until they’ve got a pretty hefty load to take back to the ship, and they’ve still got ten drachma left by the end of it. Louis finds that he actually enjoys spending the afternoon with Liam. For a pirate, Liam’s a pretty good guy and he’s good for a laugh. Louis convinces him to try and haggle with an old woman for a large hammer with a poorly put-on attempt at Niall’s accent. They don’t get the hammer, of course, but they find a cheaper one a couple of stalls down.

“Oh, I think I see somewhere we can send letters.” Liam points excitedly at a small hut just past a few stalls, and it looks like the kind of spots Louis knows to be in his own town. They dump their stuff at their feet as they purchase some paper and pay for a letter each. Louis thinks long and hard about what to write – does he tell his family he’s on Harry’s ship specifically, or will that worry them too much? In the end, he writes that he’s safe and earning money while he travels, and he misses them dearly. None of it’s lying, just the occasional omission here and there.

“What are we doing with the rest of the money?” Louis asks just before sealing his letter. They’ve got eight faded coins left, and if that was their budget for the day, it makes sense to use it all.

“Um, was gonna hand it back to Zayn,” Liam shrugs, “or maybe find something to spend it on. Why?”

“I was thinking I could send it back to my family?” Louis says, staring Liam in the eyes, daring him to say something. “Harry hasn’t paid me yet, and obviously I haven’t been working these past few days to give them my wages. I’m sure they’re not like, in trouble, but extra coin won’t hurt.”

“Sure,” Liam agrees readily, which makes Louis pause. He thought it’d be more of a fight to get eight whole drachma. “I’ll keep two so we can pick up some food, but six coins is pretty good for your family, right?”

“That’s… that’s great, thanks,” Louis says, accepting the coins and folding the paper around them so they don’t fall out. He moves quickly so Liam doesn’t have the chance to change his mind, and hands the letter over to the man behind the table to send off.

After that, they make their way back through the market, picking up a bunch of grapes to eat later, and head back to the ship to unload their purchases. Liam shows Louis the room where all the weapons are kept, and helps Louis clear a space for somewhere he can work later.

“Where to now?” Louis asks, wiping his clammy hands on his shirt and reaching for the grapes Liam’s holding. He tears off a stem and eats them quickly, barely holding back a groan as the sweet flavour hits his tongue. He rarely gets to eat grapes at home, and these are some of the best he’s tasted.

“We should see if everyone else has finished their tasks for the day,” Liam says, eating his own grapes. “Sirna has some nice beaches, they’re good to relax on.”

“I like the sound of that,” Louis says, heading out of the cramped room and into the corridor of the ship.

They meet up with Niall and Zayn as they walk back off the boat, and head straight to the beaches not too far from the docks. The sand is finer than anything Louis’ experienced before, so he doesn’t hesitate to take off his boots and socks to wiggle his toes in it, laughing at the tickling sensation.

They hang around on the beach until the late evening, when the sun begins to set, casting the sky into a beautiful orange hue. Louis’ cheeks ache from smiling all afternoon – Niall is an excellent storyteller; Louis hasn’t laughed so hard in a long time. It’s not that he was unhappy at home, far from it, but he was so busy with his family and his work that he rarely had time for himself. So far, that’s all he has as part of Harry’s crew. Time to himself and with people he tentatively thinks he could call friends soon.

Harry turns up eventually, still in the red coat, despite the heat of the day, his sword swinging at his side as he walks. Louis watches him approach them on the beach with a curious gaze. Harry stumbles along, nowhere near as graceful as he usually is on the ship. It’s oddly satisfying, seeing Harry off-balance on land, just like Louis is on the sea.

“We need to set sail,” Harry says in lieu of a greeting, his voice deep and far more serious than Louis is used to hearing it. There’s a tightness to his jaw that looks out of place.

“Now?” Zayn asks, sitting up and resting his weight on his elbows. “It’s the evening, H. We never set sail in the evening.”

Harry runs a hand through his curls, pushing them back from his face and trailing his hand down to tug at the bottom right locks. “We need to tonight,” he says, urgency creeping into his voice.

“Why?” Niall asks this time, eyebrows pinching in confusion. “What’s so important in our next port that it can’t wait an evening?”

“Do you trust me?” Harry’s lips purse. “As your captain, do you trust me?”

“Yes,” Louis hears them all say, without hesitation.

“Then you know I don’t make this decision lightly,” Harry tells them, rocking back on his heels so they dig into the sand, shifting under his stance. He won’t budge, Louis realises, no matter how hard the crew protests. Louis should have realised Harry would be this stubborn. “I have my reasons. We need to set sail for Anafi. Gather the rest of the crew and come straight back to the ship, please.”

He inclines his head, a miniature bow, and walks back the way he came. Louis watches him go, his long legs carrying him quickly, and only manages to tear his eyes away when Zayn nudges his hip, encouraging him to get up.

“Is it dangerous to set sail in the evening?" Louis asks, the confused faces around him doing nothing to ease his natural suspicions. "He's not lost it and gone mad, has he?"

"No," Zayn says but he doesn't sound sure of himself. "It's just not normal. There's never been any need to leave port at night before."

"Who knows what goes on in his head," Niall interjects, shrugging. He runs a hand through his hair, shaking the sand out of it, and starts walking towards the stone path leading to the docks.

As they approach the ship, Louis realises he's not had the chance to actually look at it properly, what with being in a crate while he was brought on, and with being too distracted by their cargo earlier today. It's absolutely stunning in the dying sun; Louis marvels at the craftsmanship of it. The hull is a faded blue, losing its vibrancy over the years, but the black of the sails is still as striking as the day they were first put up, Louis' sure. The masts stand tall against the horizon, and once Louis and Liam have reinforced them with resin, they’ll shine. At the very front, there's a polished wooden mermaid, her curls cascading over her shoulders just like Harry's.

They eat when they get back on the ship, and the evening festivities this time still involve rum – though it's suspiciously less than last night as Niall points out, shooting a mock glare at Zayn – but they're playing card games on deck as they sail under the stars.

"You ever played Pirate's Fool before?" Julian asks, dealing out hands to the group. A few of the crew are still at their posts, but most are watching or participating. Harry’s suspiciously absent, Louis notes. The deck of cards is actually an amalgamation of five different decks, and Julian's hands are already sloppy from the rum. It takes a while for everyone to receive their share.

"What d'you think?" Louis retorts, feeling a little more snappish after a few drinks from the bottle. The stuff Julian and Niall found is ten times stronger than anything Louis had back at home. "Tell me the rules then."

"There are no rules, that's the point," Julian grins.

Liam takes pity on Louis, whispering in his ear, "You have to lie. The goal is to put down two, three or four cards at a time that are all the same number, but sometimes you don't have that, so you lie. If you think someone else is lying, you call them on it. The rest you can pick up."

Louis takes another swig of rum, nodding. "Trust a bunch of pirates to play a game all about lying," he says, and Niall shoots him a grin.

Louis plays it cool for a while, testing the waters with a lie here and there but sticking mostly to the truth when he can. Niall, a terrible liar it turns out, wipes out nearly every turn, a stark contrast to Zayn whose face barely changes expression with each hand. Liam is surprisingly good, and is first out, and Julian comes next, with Louis coming a respectable fifth. Liam deals the next time, and Louis goes full out, getting as many cards down as he can in a turn. He wins, which shocks the men in front of him, and they celebrate by chanting until he finishes off the remnants of the rum.

Niall and Liam cheer as Louis wipes his lips, catching sight of Harry's head poking up from the lower decks. He looks up at the sky for a long moment, a furrow in his brow, before slipping away.

Julian claps Louis on the thigh, crowing "Such a good liar! We'll make a pirate of you, yet."  But Louis isn't paying any attention to him. The rum loosens his inhibitions just enough for him to excuse himself out of the next game and follow Harry down beneath the main deck.

He's been in most rooms of the ship now, there aren't a huge amount, but Harry's cabin has been off-limits so far. Now, with the hot flush of rum pumping in his veins and a hand on the corridor wall steadying himself, he knocks on the polished wooden door.

"Come in," Harry's low voice murmurs, and Louis resists a shudder. Harry's an attractive guy, really attractive actually, and his voice just does something to Louis. Sober, Louis can shrug it off. Getting involved with a pirate is a terrible idea and he knows that. But drunk, Louis needs to pay careful attention to his behaviour, to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. That voice that will be Louis' downfall, he's sure.

Louis enters Harry's cabin and gasps. It's infinitely more beautiful than the rest of the ship combined. The walls are covered with dark, soft looking fabrics, and the bed is big and the focal point of the room, clearly. The sheets look clean and inviting, so much more comfortable than Louis' own hammock. Dark mahogany furniture decorates the room, all neatly placed and covered in little colourful trinkets. There's art on the walls too, which Louis' never had much appreciation for but he thinks he can see why Harry likes them – the pieces are beautifully painted Grecian heroes or of ships setting sail in the early morning. They each seem to tell a story, and the whole room is like getting a glimpse inside Harry's mind.

When Louis catches sight of Harry at his desk, he gasps again. So far he's seen Harry in his loose white shirts, and that one red coat. Now, Harry's standing at a large table covered in papers, in his standard tight breeches and a thin, off-white vest top that clings to Harry's soft stomach. His left arm is covered in inked drawings, including a whole host of nautical images – a ship that looks near identical to _The Rose_ on the centre of his biceps, a mermaid and rose on his smooth forearm, even an anchor on the back of his wrist that Louis has caught glimpses of before. They're beautiful in a similar way to the art on the walls – there’s a story behind each, and Louis just can't stop staring.

"Didn't fancy the games on deck?" Harry asks, his low voice cutting through Louis' frantic reverie. Louis snaps his eyes to Harry's and sees his smile, more of a smirk really. He must know Louis was staring. There's no way Louis was subtle about it.

"No, looking for some different entertainment," Louis replies, stepping further into the room and letting the heavy door swing shut behind him.

"You'll have to find it somewhere else," Harry says, humour dropping from his expression. "I'm busy right now."

"I can see that," Louis says, ignoring the implication in Harry's words and stepping closer to the table. The papers look like maps, but they're not the kind Louis' ever seen before. Too many bright colours and words written in a language Louis doesn't recognise. He's used to studying the kind of maps that were plotted scientifically by navigators and sailors. These maps look like the kind you'd give to a young child while you entertained them with stories of the gods. "What are these for?"

"Navigation," Harry answers, but doesn't elaborate. If he's expecting Louis to leave so easily, he should think again.

Louis fits himself against Harry's side and peers at the maps. "Surely it's not that hard to get from one island to the next. There's definitely no reason for all of these green squiggly lines. What even are they?"

"Breeding grounds for sea serpents, of course," Harry states, nudging the weathered compass next to the map, and Louis huffs. He can’t tell if Harry’s joking or not. Louis’ dad always told him that sea serpents lived out in the open ocean and the only danger in the Mediterranean were pirates. "Can you read these?"

"No," Louis admits, trailing his fingers over the curve of an island. "My father was in the navy, and he taught me how to read maps but these... I've never seen maps like these before."

"Was," Harry repeats, turning to Louis. The smell of sweat and the sea permeates from Harry's skin as he stands so fucking close, and it's all Louis can do to stop himself leaning forward and inhaling Harry's scent like it's his last breath. "Killed by pirates? Is that why you hate us so much?"

"Forward," Louis scoffs. "And no, he was discharged after an injury to his leg, and he died a few years ago. Caught an illness we didn't know about until it was too late, and then we couldn't cure it. I just dislike pirates because you're all liars and thieves and murderers. I don't condone that kind of behaviour."

"You hate pirates that much, do you?" Harry lifting one hand to brush Louis' hair away from his forehead. Louis’ heart hammers in his chest, his lips parting as Harry bends down so their noses are almost touching. "You hate pirates so much, you came down here to be alone with me, the bad, scary pirate captain, hmm? You hate them so much, you'd back away in disgust if I were to kiss you right now?"

Louis blinks and steps backwards, out of Harry's reach. Whatever spell was cast by Harry's words breaks, and Louis can breathe again. "Guess we'll never know."

"We'll see about that, Louis," Harry says, smirking again. Louis meets his gaze, determined not to be the first to break it. Louis won't give him the satisfaction, pirate captain or not.

"Are you coming to join us on deck?" Louis asks, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Or will you sit down here in the candlelight with your little maps?"

"My maps are excellent company, Louis," Harry says, turning his whole body towards the table and looking away. "I'll see you in the morning."

Louis hesitates, but doesn't reply, just inclines his head and hurries out of the room. Back on the main deck, Louis drinks under the stars and joins in with the games. He doesn't think about Harry pressing him into his bed, kissing him so fiercely Louis forgets everything but Harry's name. He doesn't think about that, not at all.

***

([xxx](http://louehvolution.tumblr.com/post/141982576746))

***

The next day, Louis and Liam start fixing up the ship. They start with the masts, rubbing resin all over the wood of the main mast to begin with, base upwards. It’s arduous work and Louis’ fingers are sticky by the time they get to the crow’s nest. Half their resin is gone too, so Louis makes a mental note to bring it back up with Liam in their next port. Coating the entire ship is pretty unrealistic, but there are sections that need to be protected from the sea if they want to stop rot or leaking.

“You know we’re stuck up here now,” Louis tells Liam, peering over the edge of the crow’s nest and down at the mast, glistening in the sun. “We’ve gotta let the resin set. I’m never taking your advice again, mate.”

“You suggested we start at the bottom because you couldn’t be bothered to climb to the top of the mast,” Liam retorts, and well, he’s not wrong.

“You didn’t have to _agree_ ,” Louis says, slumping against the wood and unfolding his legs in front of him, playing with the hem of his shirt. He’s still waiting on Niall to finish his new clothes, so as of now he’s stuck in these rags. “Entertain me, Liam. Any cards? Dice?”

Liam sits opposite him, running a hand over his fuzzy head. Zayn shaved it for him earlier, so it’s freshly cropped and a little patchy in places. “Nope, didn’t bring any of that up here while we were meant to be working.”

Louis shakes his head with exaggerated motions, tutting. “Tell us a story then. Your girl back home, what’s she like? You seem like the kind of guy who likes to talk about that.”

“Do I?” Liam smiles, clearly not upset with Louis’ comment. It’s almost cute, actually. “Well, Sophia’s her name and she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met, and sweet and funny. To be honest, I’m kind of amazed she even puts up with me.”

“You never thought of asking Harry about bringing her on board?” Louis asks. He couldn’t imagine being away from someone he loved for months at a time. His family is hard enough, but a lover. It’d be hell.

“’S bad luck, innit? Having a woman on board and all that.” Liam shrugs. “Besides, she’s got a shop she runs with her mum and I wouldn’t want her to drop that for me, you know? This isn’t forever, anyway. Eventually, we’ll settle down and have a family. That’s what I’m preparing for, at least.”

Louis raises his eyebrows in surprise at that. Liam’s young, younger than Louis is, he thinks, and he doesn’t really strike Louis as the kind of man who’d want to settle down so quickly. “Is that what you’re saving all your pirate treasure for? Starting a family?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Liam says. “It’s slow goings but it’s getting there. But what about you? D’you have a girl at home?”

Louis hesitates. So far, he’s received a much warmer welcome than he thought he’d get on _The Rose_ , of all pirate ships, but this little fact might be what fucks him over. Or maybe not, thinking of the ease with which Harry flirts with him, and how Niall and Zayn spend a suspicious amount of time together, even on a ship this small. “No,” he answers, finally. “No one other than my family.”

“You know,” Liam says slowly, looking Louis in the eyes with his puppy dog gaze. “If you don’t _want_ a girl, that’s, y’know, not something to worry about. On this ship, that is.”

“Right, uh, thanks, Liam,” Louis says, his fingers twitching against his trousers. “Wake me up in a bit, yeah? May as well kip while we’re up here.”

“Useless,” Liam mutters under his breath, and Louis kicks his hip.

***

Their next port is Anafi, a town that’s significantly bigger than Sirna and Louis’ home. It’s surrounded with sandy dunes, and the harbour is pretty small, but Louis can see smoke rising from the marketplace as they approach, black sails spread wide.

Again, as soon as the anchor’s dropped, Harry’s stalking off the ship decked out in his finest red coat, sword, and even a traditional pirate’s hat this time. Louis’ starting to think it’s to make him seem more intimidating, like the fierce pirate he’s rumoured to be, and not the charming but ultimately harmless young man he really is. Either way, Louis’ no less suspicious about where Harry goes and what business he gets up to, but before he can even think to follow, Niall’s calling for him to come with him.

“So Liam and Zayn are shopping together today,” Niall says cheerily, leading the way into town. “Which means you’re helping me hunt for more fabric.”

“What, you didn’t buy enough for my clothes in the last port?” Louis saw the huge bundle Niall carried back on to the ship. There’s no way that wasn’t enough to clothe Louis.

“We need to change the sails,” Niall answers. “Nowhere near enough fabric for that.”

The cramped stalls of Anafi’s market are invariably different but still so familiar to the ones from home. Like before, he doesn’t spot Harry, and his curiosity gets the best of him. “So where does Harry go when he disappears for the day?”

“He doesn’t tell me,” Niall replies, walking closer to a stall and inspecting the rough fabric hanging over the edge of the table.

“But you’re the first mate,” Louis presses. How can Niall _not_ know what Harry gets up to? “You must have a guess, at least?”

“I don’t know,” Niall repeats, shrugging. He’s clearly not bothered, more concerned with the materials in front of him and the prices shown. Louis ducks closer, moving out of the way of a man charging through the crowd. “I don’t question it, mate. Sure, I’m curious ‘cause he never brings anything back, but if Harry doesn’t wanna tell me, I don’t mind. We’ve all got our secrets.”

“Ominous,” Louis comments. He watches Niall barter with the vendor for a few minutes, impressed with how easy it comes for him. He’s got all of the knowledge he needs to deduce how much the fabric is actually worth, and he’s charmed the vendor within the first minute of the exchange. “How did you learn all of this stuff?” Louis asks once they’re moving on, a bundle of fabric split between them.

“About materials? My mam taught me,” Niall says, eyeing up another stall already.

“Really? My mum never bothered teaching me how to sew, it was always the girls’ jobs.” Louis ended up learning carpentry from his neighbour since his father was always away and his mum would never teach him something considered to be so ‘girly’.

“Most men don’t learn it,” is all Niall says, before he’s spotting something he wants on another table and is loading the rough fabric into Louis’ arms and bounding over. Louis folds it as best he can and tries to avoid knocking someone over while he waits.

Niall returns after a few moments with a much softer looking piece of cloth in his hands, rubbing it against his face. “D’you reckon this would irritate your skin?”

Louis lets Niall rub it against his cheek, thinking. “Maybe? If it was too tight? What’s it for, anyway?”

“Binding,” Niall says. He chucks it on top of the bundle Louis’ carrying and sets off again, looking over his shoulder and beckoning for Louis to keep up. He doesn’t press for answers, remembering what Niall said about secrets. Plus, they share so much of their time on the ship, Louis can grant Niall this privacy.

They just turn a corner when Zayn literally crashes into them, eyes wide and unfocused. He knocks Louis to the ground, Niall jumping out of the way just in time. He lets out a surprised shout, and too many faces turn around to stare at the commotion.

“Ni, we have to get back to the ship,” Zayn hisses, grabbing Louis’ arm and hauling him off the ground.

Niall’s at Zayn’s side in an instant, hands fluttering at his waist like he wants to reach out and physically check Zayn for injuries but he can’t. “What happened? Where’s Liam?”

“Still shopping,” Zayn says in a rush, so different to his usual mumbled speech. “Babe, we need to _go._ ”

Niall hovers for another minute in panic, before Zayn rolls his eyes and grabs Niall’s hand, physically dragging him away. Louis picks up the dropped fabric and runs after them, too caught up in fleeing to be pissed that they completely ignored him just then. They’re sprinting now, winding through the village until the sea is in sight, then curving towards the harbour. Louis looks over his shoulder intermittently but he doesn’t catch sight of anyone following them. He doesn’t even know what he’s looking out for.

They run up the gangway and head straight below deck, only stopping when they’re certain they’re out of sight. Louis drops the fabric to the floor and wheezes, resting his hands on his knees and trying to catch his breath. “What the fuck was that all about?”

“People found me out,” Zayn pants, wiping sweat from his forehead. Niall inhales sharply, and Louis frowns. Found him out? It’s pretty obvious that he’s a pirate, just like Niall, but they’ve never run into trouble while Louis’ been here.

“That you’re a pirate?” Louis asks, confused.

Zayn shakes his head and flicks his gaze over to Niall. Niall nods slightly, such a minute movement that Louis almost misses it, and Zayn bends over to take off his boots. It takes a moment for Louis to realise _why_ he’s randomly stripping off his clothing, only figuring it out when Zayn removes his sock and a wrinkled, bird-like foot stretches its talons.

“What the fuck is that?” Louis hisses, staring at Zayn’s foot. Zayn rolls his trouser leg up to the knee, and the greyish, rough skin goes all the way to mid-calf, where it blends into the smooth, brown skin Louis’ used to seeing. “Are you-?”

“I’m part siren,” Zayn interrupts and Louis’ jaw drops. His dad told him about sirens so he knew they existed on the edges of Greece, but he’s never… he’s never thought he’d ever come into contact with one and he never thought you could be _part_ siren. “Sometimes, the siren’s charm is hard to control,” Zayn continues, turning to Niall. “I was with Liam in the market and the vendor figured out I was using magic. I left as quickly as I could but I couldn’t tell if they were following.”

“Where’s Liam?” Niall asks seriously, but less on edge. Zayn being a siren is clearly not news to him, but Louis doesn’t know how the fuck to react. “Is he alright?”

“Yeah, I thought it’d be more suspicious if we both left, and Liam’s as human as they come, so I told him to keep shopping.” Zayn lets his trousers go, covering up his leg. “Guess the budget will take a hit, but at least I didn’t get caught.”

“You’re a—” Louis starts, catching Zayn’s attention again. “A siren? How?”

“It’s not that complicated, mate,” Zayn tells Louis, a hint of wryness in his tone. “My mum was a full siren; my dad was an explorer. Things happened and here I am.”

Okay, that’s… okay. Louis can deal with this. “Right. And what would have happened if you were spotted? Would people want to hunt you?”

“Yeah. You probably haven’t realised coming from such a small town, but sirens don’t get the best reputation around here,” Zayn says. He sits on the deck and leans back against the railings, letting his head fall back and his eyes shut. He exhales slowly, and Niall takes his place next to him, squeezing his hand. “I don’t want any more encounters with sailors or guards, thanks.”

“Harry’s good at keeping people safe,” Niall adds quietly, looking up from his and Zayn’s joined hands to Louis, still standing like a moron next to the pile of cloth. “Told you we all had secrets.”

“What’s yours then?” Louis asks before he can stop himself. He doesn’t fancy getting caught out one day when it turns out that Niall’s been a mermaid all along or something. “How did you both even find Harry and this ship?”

“Niall’s is a lot different to mine,” Zayn murmurs, opening his eyes to assess Louis critically. “Not nearly as monstrous.”

“You’re not a monster,” Niall chides, like he’s done it a thousand times before. He turns back to Louis and grins. “If you get me drunk enough this evening, maybe I’ll tell you. Until then, do us a favour and put the fabrics in the workshop? Our great-escape has me too fucked to move right now.”

“Lazy sods,” Louis bites back good-naturedly, but he picks up the materials and takes them to the workshop anyway.

By the time the evening rolls around and they’ve set sail again, curiosity is bubbling in Louis’ chest. He’s been trying to imagine what Niall could possibly be hiding all day. Has he killed a man? Is he a runaway prince? Is he _actually_ a mermaid? Louis steals a bottle of rum off Julian and Liam, drinking it steadily as he searches out Niall.

“Here you are!” he shouts when he finds Niall, a bit louder than he intended to. Niall’s fiddling with the soft cotton he bought earlier, threading a needle through the edges like Louis remembers his mum used to do. “Niall, you promised me something.”

“I did,” Niall agrees, dropping the fabric and taking the bottle of rum from Louis’ hands. He knocks back more than Louis is capable of in one swig, wiping his mouth and handing it back to Louis. “It’s not like, it’s not that interesting, like Zayn’s thing, yeah? It’s just why I can’t go home anymore.”

“Is it that bad?” Louis asks. The murderer thing is looking more likely.

“It’s not bad,” Niall says quickly. “When I was born, my parents named me Aoife, yeah? And they thought I was a girl so they taught me how to sew and plaited my hair and dressed me in pretty dresses but that’s… that’s not _me_.”

Louis listens intently, processing what Niall’s saying. Things start falling into place, Niall’s knowledge of such a womanly craft like sewing, and the high, lilting quality to his voice. The aversion to having his secret be compared to Zayn’s, something ultimately more monstrous.

“When I told them I wanted to be called Niall and when I started avoiding my dresses and skirts, they didn’t like it,” Niall continues, downing more of the rum. “So when I was old enough, I left. Luckily for me, Harry and his dad were docked in port that day. I met Harry in the market and asked him to cut my hair, and he helped me bind my chest. He even snuck me on board. Gods, if he wasn’t so naïve to do that for a stranger, I’d have been fucked. Harry convinced his dad to let me stay when he found out about me, and here we are, six years later.”

“Harry’s dad was captain?” Louis doesn’t know why he’s so surprised that Harry inherited the ship, he’s the youngest captain that Louis’ heard of. It’s not exactly common.

“Yeah, Harry’s dad was the captain of the ship until last year,” Niall says, his fingers loosening on the bottle. Louis figures he’s more comfortable with this topic. “When he died, most of the crew left because Harry’s… he’s different to how his dad was. Anyway, the crew didn’t fancy staying under Harry, only Julian and Jeff. They helped him avoid a mutiny so he could keep the ship.”

Louis scratches his jaw, trying to picture Harry dealing with the death of his father and the people he grew up with leaving and even rebelling against him. It’s too hard to wrap his head around, and pangs of sympathy echo in Louis’ chest. He takes the rum back off Niall and drinks it greedily. “How’s he different?”

Niall shoots Louis a look, raising his brow, as if he’s surprised that Louis hasn’t been able to figure it out yet. “Kinder,” Niall says eventually. “Pretty much all the stories you hear about _The Rose_ and Captain Styles are actually about Des. Harry doesn’t keep any treasure he steals, either.”

“Doesn’t he?” Louis frowns. “How does he keep the ship running?”

“Oh, that he keeps,” Niall amends. “Just enough to cover costs, the rest he gives to us or to people in ports. Y’know, the ones that look like they could use a couple extra coins.”

“A kind-hearted pirate,” Louis says, unbelieving. Before coming on this ship, he’d never once, in all his life, have pegged the captain of _The Rose_ to be like Harry, someone who actually gives away treasure to the less fortunate instead of keeping it for themselves. Again, the rug has been pulled out from underneath Louis’ feet, but he doesn’t feel like he’s drowning this time. Instead, a warmth settles in his chest. “Still doesn’t explain where he goes during the day.”

“Does it matter?” Niall asks, cocking his head. “It’s Harry, it won’t be anything bad, and now you know mine and Zayn’s secret and how dangerous it can be if people find out, can’t you give Harry the same privacy?”

“I want to know,” Louis huffs. It’s petulant, yes, but Harry is endlessly confusing to Louis, and he’s desperate to know more. He thinks he saw Harry by the railings before he came down to look for Niall, and without giving it a second thought, Louis tightens his grip on the rum and uses Niall’s shoulder to heave himself off the floor.

Louis stumbles on to the main deck and over to Harry, where he actually stumbles _into_ Harry, his forehead knocking against Harry’s shoulder. He grabs hold of Harry’s waist to steady himself, except that doesn’t work because his body instinctively leans into Harry even more so Louis is plastered against Harry’s side.

“Hello to you too,” Harry murmurs, flitting his hands over Louis’ arms, letting them trail from Louis’ shoulders down to his wrists where he circles them gently. Louis tries not to think about how Harry’s hands are so big that they make Louis’ seem tiny, wrapping around his wrists so easily. “Did you never drink before you joined my crew?”

Louis snorts but doesn’t make any attempt to pull away from Harry. His body is warm in the cool night air, and he smells good. He smells really good, like the sea, but the fresh kind of sea salt that makes you stop and take a deep breath, not the dirty sea stench of the docks.

“I didn’t make a habit of it,” Louis says, remembering that Harry actually asked a question. “Where do you go during the day?” he blurts out, his mind drenched with too much rum to stop himself.

Harry lets go of Louis wrists and takes the rum from his hands, finishing the bottle with a few long gulps. Louis watches the way his throat moves in the starlight and wonders how his skin would taste. “That’s a trade secret,” Harry says, smirking once he’s finished. He lets the bottle fall to the floor with a thud, and leans against the railing so his body curves enticingly. “Why do you want to know?”

“You’re hiding something,” Louis accuses, jabbing his finger into Harry’s chest. “You don’t tell anyone where you’re going and that’s _suspicious_.” He stumbles over the last word, trying three times before he manages it.

Harry’s smirk morphs into a softer smile as Louis speaks. “Everyone’s hiding something,” he says, like the cryptic message isn’t just going to make Louis roll his eyes. “Even you, Louis.”

“I’m an open book,” Louis says, barely resisting the urge to poke his tongue out at Harry.

“Really?” Harry lifts his brows, catching Louis when he sways forwards. “What’s your last name?”

“Tomlinson,” Louis answers straight away. “Didn’t trust you when I first met you, did I?”

Harry leans in close, pressing his lips to Louis’ ears. “And do you trust me now?” he whispers, his breath caressing Louis’ cheek.

“No,” Louis says, turning into Harry’s body. He stares at Harry’s lips, a breath away from his own. They look soft, despite how much Harry bites them; Louis could get lost looking at them. “Where do you go?”

“It’s not important,” Harry dismisses, but he still doesn’t move away. Louis thinks that if Harry did, he’d just follow him closer anyway. “A captain is due some secrets, don’t you think?”

“No,” Louis repeats, stubbornly. “What are you hiding?”

Harry slides one hand to rest at the small of Louis’ back, his rings digging in through the light fabric of Louis’ shirt. Louis doesn’t break eye contact, too entranced with Harry’s eyes. “Something very dark, Louis Tomlinson,” he murmurs, teasing. Now, Louis snorts, dropping his gaze to Harry’s chest. The gold of his necklaces shine white in the dark, hanging in the gaping neckline of Harry’s shirt.

“You should trust me,” Louis replies, flicking his eyes back up to Harry. He thinks he sees Harry’s lips part, feels a sharp inhale of breath, but he can’t tell for sure because Harry’s stepping back, turning away so Louis’ left staring at the broad expanse of his back.

“And you should go to bed,” Harry says. There’s a beat before he spins around again, more composed and smiling. “You’re drunk, and we’ve got a long week of sailing before our next port. Lots of work to be done.”

“You’re drunk,” Louis snipes petulantly, but Harry’s right. Louis’ very drunk and very tired and if he stays on deck much longer, he’ll do something stupid like ask Harry for a kiss. “I’ll see you in the morning, _Captain_.” He finishes with a mock bow and stumbles away, in search of the ladder that will take him below deck.

***

“Does that ship look like it’s getting bigger to you?”

Louis looks up from where he’s just fitted a new piece of wood into the quarter deck, and sealed it with hot wax. He takes the telescope Liam’s offering and fits it against his eye. There’s a ship on the horizon, the sails hitched and dirty white colours reflecting the sunlight. Louis looks at it for a long moment, and it does seem to be getting bigger, as if it’s getting closer.

“Is it coming towards us?” Louis replies, tearing his gaze away from the horizon to look to Liam, who’s scrambling up to the poop deck to get a closer look. Louis follows, icy dread seeping into his veins. Liam’s normally cheerful expression has dropped, replaced with an eerie, blank look.

“I think it might be,” he says quietly. “I don’t recognise the sails but…”

“It doesn’t look like a trade or naval ship,” Louis finishes. He remembers waving his father off whenever he’d leave for sea journeys, and the sails and finish of the boat looked nothing like the one approaching them. “Is it…?”

“I think it might be.” Liam swallows, suddenly springing into motion when he pushes himself off the railings and hurries down the decks, a muffled, “I need to tell Harry” is all that’s left behind. Louis keeps his eyes on the ship, as if watching it intensely will keep it at bay. It’s sailing faster than theirs is, closing the distance between them too quickly for Louis’ comfort.

Barely a minute passes and Harry’s on the top deck, jogging over to where Louis’ still sitting with a telescope in his hand. He passes it to Harry, who holds it to his eye and looks out over the sea, muttering _“Shit_ ,” under his breath.

“Pirate ship?” Louis asks, almost terrified of the answer.

“Yeah,” Harry confirms, lowering the telescope. His brow is pinched, lower lip rolling between his teeth. “It’s gonna try and board us. _Fucking hell_ , I thought our sails would be enough to keep other ships away.”

“They’re gonna attack us?” Louis’ fingers twitch with nerves. “Can we out sail it?”

Harry shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “No, it’s going too fast and gaining on us too quickly. We need to fight them off when they try and climb on board.”

“I thought you’d never killed anyone?” Louis’ mind starts flooding with images of actual, terrifying pirates climbing up the rigging of the ship, holding guns to the crew’s heads and killing ruthlessly. Louis feels sick, his stomach churning at the thought of Harry and Niall and Zayn, of _everyone_ trying to hold their own.

“I haven’t and I don’t intend to,” Harry snaps, gritting his teeth. The tendons of his neck stand out, frustration evident in every line of his body. “But I don’t have a lot of choice here, do I? I can’t let them damage my ship. If we can keep them from boarding, we don’t have to kill anyone.”

“What do we…?” Louis trails off. He didn’t want any part of this kind of lifestyle when he agreed to be part of Harry’s crew. He’s a carpenter, Christ, he doesn’t know how to fire a pistol or swing a sword. He can’t fight and he can’t kill someone if it comes down to it.

Harry wheels on Louis then, gripping his arms tightly, so tight it hurts, but Louis can’t find the voice to tell him that. “You don’t have to do anything if you can’t,” he says urgently. “You can go wait it out below decks in the cabin, and no one will say a word against you. I promised that you wouldn’t have to deal with this, but I need to know now so I know where you are and if you’re safe.”

“I—” Louis cuts off. He doesn’t want to fight, God, it makes him a craven but he’d be a hindrance above deck. “I’ll go below decks. Stay safe.”

“You too,” Harry says, moving quickly to the centre of the main deck where everyone else has gathered. Their eyes are on Harry, so Louis slips unnoticed down the ladder and all the way down to the cabin below decks. The lower he goes, the more he hates himself. It’s stupid, he knows it’s stupid; he owes no allegiance to Harry. He shouldn’t have to risk his life to protect the ship he never truly belonged to, and since he’s likely to piss himself in fear the second an enemy pirate lifts their gun towards him, he’ll be useless.

But he can’t shake the feeling that he should be up there with the rest of the crew, because he’s one of them now, as much as he never wanted to be. No, Louis doesn’t owe Harry his life, but he owes him _something_ for hospitality he’s shown Louis, and for paying him more in a week than Ben did in a month for less than half the work. Louis’ been on _The Rose_ for a full fortnight now, making friends with the crew was inevitable. Louis spends so much time with Liam, Niall, Zayn, and even Harry, now he couldn’t imagine anything different.

Louis paces back and forth between the hammocks, chewing on his nail as he tries to decide whether it’s worth going back up deck and seeing if there’s anything he can do to help. He hates waiting here, useless, while there could be a massacre on the main deck right now and he wouldn’t know a fucking thing about it. His heart races at the thought, panic making him jumpy.

 _The Rose_ is too small to carry cannons, and Louis’ seen the collection of swords and guns. They’re short range weapons only, so if the other ship has anything that’s even halfway decent long range, they’re absolutely fucked. Gods, he could _die_ today.

The echo of a gunshot breaks his frantic reverie and makes the decision for him. The thought that one of his friends has been shot is too much to bear down here, where he’s supposedly safe. Without thinking, he sprints out of the cabin and down the corridor, scrambling up the ladder and poking his head up onto the main deck.

Despite his worst fears, he’s still shocked at the scene on the ship. A group of pirates – seven, Louis thinks, but everyone is moving too quickly for him to be sure – have managed to make it on board, and are fighting with Harry’s crew on the deck. The sharp clanging of swords fills the air, with the heavy grunts of the men echoing them. Smoky gunpowder wafts over to where Louis’ hidden too; Louis can still hear the ringing of the shot in his ears.

He spots Harry straight away, a cutlass glinting in the sunlight as he swings it. He’s moving backwards, towards the quarter deck, the pirate attacking him is like a giant next to him. He’s broader than Harry, probably stronger too, and though Harry has speed and skill on his side, Harry’s sticking to the defensive manoeuvres, clearly not wanting to attack. Louis can’t tell what his plan his as he backs further away from the rest of the fight, but he needs to have one otherwise all it’ll take is one wrong move and the pirate will be slashing into Harry’s side.

A startled yelp from the opposite end of the ship catches Louis’ attention, and he whips his head around just in time to see Niall and Zayn push one of the attacking pirates overboard. There’s a small gash bleeding on Niall’s forearm, and though that seems to be his only injury, Louis’ relief doesn’t last long. Not when there are still so many pirates on board.

There’s another strangled cry and the sound of a body hitting the water, and after that, Louis can’t focus on one thing at a time. So much is going on and people are moving so quickly that bodies are blurring together, and Louis doesn’t think it’s the ship’s rocking that’s making him feel so queasy. He watches the scene with biting anticipation in his gut, only pulled out of his reverie when he hears a pained grunt that’s unmistakably Harry’s.

Harry’s on the deck floor, clutching his right elbow, hands hidden from Louis’ view. The pirate is standing over him, letting his sword clatter to the wooden floor and drawing a rusty gun from a holster around his waist. He does something to make it click, holds it up to Harry’s head, and prepares to shoot.

Louis screams.

The world doesn’t slow down like Louis expects it too, and all he really knows is that he screams louder than he ever has before, making the pirate hesitate. The pirate whips his body round, looking for the source of the scream, and Louis heaves himself on to the deck, every limb shaking as he stands. In the blink of an eye, the pirate aims his gun at Louis, the breath leaves Louis’ chest, and a shot echoes on the ship.

It takes Louis an agonisingly long moment to realise he’s not the one who’s been hit. His blood is pounding in his ears and he swears he feels a sharp stinging in his side, but it’s the pirate that’s keeling over, falling on Harry’s legs with blood blooming from his chest.

“Harry,” Louis whispers, barely louder than a breath. Harry’s holding a smoking gun in his right hand, staring in horror at the pirate, slowly bleeding out on his legs. No one else moves, the other pirates must all be overboard, vastly outnumbered by Harry’s crew, but Louis’ sprinting towards him, dropping to his knees beside Harry.

From there, he freezes. He doesn’t know whether to move the pirate, whose eyes are glassy with a beard stained with blood, or to check Harry for wounds, or to scream again. All of the tension coiling in his chest is pulling him taut like a cross-bow, ready to fire at the slightest twitch.

“His shoulder,” Harry croaks out, sounding so young and terrified that Louis’ heart aches. “I aimed for his shoulder.”

Louis doesn’t need to look at the pirate, muscles twitching at the last threads of his life, to know that Harry didn’t hit his shoulder. There’s too much blood and the man collapsed too quickly for Harry to have hit anything but his heart.

Liam rests his hand on Louis’ shoulder gently, leaning past him and grabbing the shoulders of the pirate. Zayn appears to take his legs, and Julian grabs the middle. They carry him away from Harry and Louis, blood dripping everywhere. The pool that soaked Harry’s lower body is spreading along the wooden deck of the floor, seeping through the cracks in the wood.

The second the body is thrown over the edge of the boat, Harry leaps up from where he was lying and runs to the opposite side of the deck, vomiting over the railings. The sound triggers Louis’ own churning stomach, and he just makes it to the edge of the ship before he throws up.

It feels like he’s suspended in time, he thinks as he wipes his mouth, resting his forehead on the wooden railing while he waits for the nausea to ebb. He’s got no clue how quickly things are moving, it feels like he was staring down the barrel of a gun seconds ago, and down under the decks in another lifetime.

Harry’s chest heaves with a broken sob, and he pushes himself off the railings, barrelling past Louis and rushing below deck. Louis doesn’t even think before following, ignoring the confused noises and clatter behind them. He barges his way into Harry’s cabin, almost stumbling inside with the force.

Harry’s sitting on the edge of his bed, his elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands. His breaths are audible and far too fast to be normal. Louis crouches in front of him carefully, hands hovering about Harry’s. He doesn’t want to touch since Harry doesn’t even seem to realise that Louis is there, too caught up in his own racing thoughts.

“Harry,” Louis says gently, his voice hoarse. “Harry, look at me.”

“I didn’t mean to kill him,” Harry croaks, still not looking at Louis. He curls his fists in his hair, tugging sharply. Louis intervenes then, covering Harry’s broad hands with his own, much smaller and more calloused. Harry doesn’t relax his fingers, but he doesn’t tug anymore either. “I didn’t—I wouldn’t.”

“I know,” Louis says, leaning close so his forehead rests against the crown of Harry’s head. “It was an accident.”

“I thought—” Harry continues, sucking in a ragged breath. “I saw him aim the gun and I panicked. I didn’t mean it.”

“It’s—” Louis cuts himself off. It’s not alright. Harry literally killed a man, he’s not going to be alright. Not for a while, at least. Louis couldn’t imagine killing someone and now Harry has and what can Louis say to that? “He would have killed you. It was self-defence.”

Harry drops his hands from his hair, leaving the curls stained with blood. “He wasn’t pointing the gun at me.”

“Then you saved me,” Louis says resolutely. He holds Harry’s hands, interlocking their fingers, not caring about the blood, and squeezes. “It was me, you, or him. Better for us that it was him who died.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” Harry says, tearing his hands out of Louis’ grasp and standing abruptly. Louis moves backwards so he doesn’t get knocked over by Harry’s sudden movement. He watches him start pacing the room, tension set in his shoulders.

Louis hovers uncertainly. He can’t imagine what’s going on in Harry’s mind and… Louis never fully believed that Harry had never killed someone, but now he can see how fucking wrong he was. This isn’t the reaction of a cold-blooded murderer, and Louis’ heart aches for him more than he expected it to.

“You’re not a bad person, Harry,” Louis says softly, standing up and brushing off the dust from his knees. His clothes will probably need to be thrown away, just like Harry’s; there’s too much blood on them. “Doing one bad thing doesn’t make you irredeemable.”

Harry doesn’t reply, so after a few minutes, Louis cuts his losses and walks out of the room. He doesn’t go back onto the main deck, he doesn’t think he could stomach it, instead going straight into his cabin and stripping out of the bloody clothes. He finds the damp rag he used to wash himself earlier and scrubs at his skin until he’s been rubbed raw.

***

Harry spends the next few days sailing avoiding everyone and everything. He rarely surfaces from his room, even during the night drinking, and never lets anyone in, not Louis or Zayn or even Niall. Louis’ tearing his hair out, trying to think of a way to help Harry and failing miserably. All he can do it replace the blood-soaked wooden planks on the main deck and keep himself occupied so he doesn’t go out of his mind with worry.

When they arrive at their next port, Ios, Louis decides enough is enough. When Harry leaves the boat the second the anchor is dropped and the gangway is in place, Louis hurries after him. He lags just enough for Harry to continue his journey thinking he’s alone, but keeps him in his line of sight all times. Louis even grabs the first rag of cloth he sees, giving the merchant a spare drachma as he wraps it around his neck, pulling the fabric up to cover his nose and mouth.

Harry doesn’t dally at any of the stalls, even in a market this big – Louis almost wishes he were back with the rest of the crew so he could appreciate how much stuff is here. Harry just charges through the crowd, the sleeves of his expensive looking shirt billowing in the breeze while the hem is tucked in those damned tight trousers. He’s forgone the coat today, and Louis would assume it was the summer heat if it weren’t for the fact that Harry has worn the coat on every other hot day. The thought that he doesn’t want to present as a pirate because of what happened makes Louis feel sick.

By the time Harry seems to reach his destination, fiddling with his earring anxiously, Louis’ thoroughly confused. They left the marketplace behind a long time ago, and Harry walked past the fields, into the area where the cramped houses have been built. Harry seems to be looking for a specific something, though Louis can’t figure out what exactly. All the homes look the same to him but Harry just keeps strolling, like he’s waiting for a sign.

He stops in front of a house with a tall green plant twining through a trellis, stretching the height of the whole house. Louis only pays it any attention because Harry stops in front of it and inspects the sporadic red flowers along the stem for a long moment. Apparently deciding this house is the one he’s looking for, Harry opens the front door and steps inside.

Louis comes to a stop in front of the house and hesitates. Going inside means completely blowing his cover but leaving now, when he’s so close to finding out what Harry’s been doing all this time, is just not an option for him. How exactly he’s going to find out what Harry’s doing _now_ is another challenge in itself.

Luck is with him, apparently, as he’s five minutes into racking his brain when he hears the distinct drawl of Harry’s voice drift down from the open window two storeys up. Louis spends the briefest minute checking to see if the trellis can hold his weight, and then he’s climbing up and begging the gods not to let him fall. He ignores the rough burn of the wood and plant on his hands, climbing until his head is just high enough for him to peer through the window. He tries not to be too obvious about it but curiosity drives him forwards, making him a little reckless.

“What are you asking for, Captain?” a woman asks, her voice rough and throaty. She’s standing with her back to the window, angled towards Harry who must be leaning against the far wall of the small room, out of Louis’ sight. The room is filled with old, dusty books and heavy-looking cases, all sealed under lock and key. Shivers run down Louis’ spine just staring at the room.

“I need an amulet,” Harry says firmly, not wavering in his demand. “Not just any amulet, I’m looking for a specific one.”

The woman scoffs, resting her hands on her hips. Louis climbs another step on the trellis and readjusts his grip. He’s got a lot of strength as a carpenter, but he doesn’t think he’ll be able to hold himself up for too long.

“What kind of amulet are you after?” The woman presses. Now that Louis can see a more of her room, the trinkets dangling from the ceiling and walls, the ancient script on the spines of the books, he’s getting more suspicious as to who this woman actually is.

“This one,” Harry says, and the woman steps forward to take something from him. There’s a beat of silence before the woman hisses, crumpling something and throwing it to the side. Louis ducks his head quickly as Harry comes into view, hurrying to pick up whatever she’s thrown.

“I can’t help you with that,” the woman snaps, standing up ramrod straight with her arms folded, tension coiled tight.

“You’re a witch, you must be able to help me.” Harry sounds like he’s pleading now, desperation rife in his voice. Louis’ eyes widen with surprise and he bites down on his lips to stop himself from gasping. Whatever he thought Harry would be doing, he didn’t think he’d be associating with _witches_.

“Why should I help you?” the witch asks. Louis shifts again and tries to get a better look, overwhelmed with curiosity now. “ _What_ do I have to gain by helping someone who’s—”

“I have gold,” Harry says; Louis wants to strangle him for cutting the witch off. “So much gold you’ll never need to work again. I’ll do anything, _please_. If you don’t have it, tell me where I can find it.”

“I don’t know where it is,” the witch says quietly, the silence between her and Harry stretching out. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t help you. Whatever you’ve done, you deserve what was given to you. I don’t want anything to do with you, so get out of my house and _never_ come here again.”

“ _Please_ ,” Harry begs. “Anything, name it, I’ll get it for—”

“Get out,” the witch says, her voice leaving no room for argument. “Get out and never come back.”

Louis hears a door open and scurries down the trellis, darting around the house so that when Harry comes out through the front door, he’s not in sight. Harry lets the door slam behind him and throws his head back, muffling a scream with his fists pressed to his mouth. He looks torn between crying and punching something. Louis doesn’t want to get too close to him right now, not when Harry’s as unpredictable as he is. But gods, the curiosity is eating away at Louis. What the fuck kind of amulet does Harry need that he’s going to _witches_ to look for? And what the hell was the witch going to say before Harry cut her off?

Harry stalks in the direction back of the market, and Louis starts to follow again. He turns off sharply, just after the ploughed fields end, and heads towards the edges of the cliffs. They overlook the sea, veering off with a sharp drop, long grass blowing in the wind. Harry sits too close to the edge for Louis’ comfort, leaning back on his elbows.

Louis waits a few drawn-out moments, watching Harry’s long curls spread over his shoulders with the breeze and making sure he doesn’t spot him early, until Louis’ made his presence known.

“Didn’t think this was what you got up to when you sneak off in the mornings,” Louis says, walking closer and sitting beside Harry. Their feet almost dangle over the edge, and Louis really thinks they’re tempting fate here. It doesn’t stop him getting closer to Harry.

“Fancied a change of scenery,” Harry says quietly, not looking up at Louis. He lets his eyes fall shut, his eyelashes delicate as they sweep across his cheeks. Not for the first time, Louis’ struck by the almost feminine beauty of Harry. “Sometimes it’s nice to just… get away for a while.”

Louis nods, wondering if he should admit that he followed Harry. He wants answers, yes, but with everything Harry’s been through over the past few days, he doesn’t want to push him. Not yet, anyway, not when whatever Harry’s hiding isn’t really affecting him. He’s just really fucking curious.

“Do you ever think about stopping?” Louis asks, the thought striking him for the first time. “Like, giving up being a pirate – or whatever it is you are because you’re not really a typical pirate? But just settling down, having a normal life, you know?”

“I can’t give up my ship,” Harry replies instantly, shrugging like there’s nothing he can do about it. “That’s not an option for me.”

“Why not?” Louis presses. Maybe it’s different for Louis because he’s not a captain – _The Rose_ isn’t much more than some skilfully assembled pieces of wood to him – but he couldn’t imagine valuing something so much that the idea of leaving it is beyond consideration. “I could do it up, you could sell it, and we split the money between the whole crew. I reckon everyone would be set for a long time.”

“It’s not about the money,” Harry insists, finally opening his eyes and looking at Louis. “I just can’t.”

Louis bites his lip. “Is it about your dad? Niall mentioned he used to be Captain.”

At the mention of Harry’s dad, Harry’s face clouds over, his nostrils flaring. “A little bit,” he says stiffly. “He um, he has this legacy, I guess, that I have to carry out. It’s… complicated.”

“Why? He’s dead isn’t he?” Harry doesn’t reply and Louis winces at that, he really could have phrased that better. “It’s just, I figured now that he’s dead, it doesn’t matter what you do? He can’t do anything about it.”

“It’s complicated,” Harry repeats, sitting up suddenly and crossing his legs. He slumps forwards, the silk shirt stretching over his curved shoulders prettily. “Besides, why would I want to give this up? I can go anywhere I want, do anything I want. It’s not… I’m freer than most people.”

“You’re also feared in most Greek islands,” Louis adds, resting his hand on Harry’s arm. “And when you’ve travelled everywhere you can travel, what then?”

“It’d take more than a lifetime to travel everywhere one person could travel,” Harry tells him. “Why do you care, anyway? Are you not enjoying being part of the crew?”

“I am,” Louis says honestly. He’s enjoying it far more than he ever expected. Never in a million years would he have dreamt about sailing the seas like this, working for a kind-hearted pirate and making the friends he has. There are things he misses about his home, but that’s mostly narrowed down to his family. He doesn’t miss the idle repetitiveness of the carpentry and now that he’s experienced bigger and better villages, he thinks going back to his own would be like regressing. “I really do. I’m just curious, I guess. You’ve lived a completely different life to me, so I wondered if you would ever change it.”

“There are some things I’d change, if I could,” Harry drawls, turning to look at Louis with bright eyes, full of something Louis can’t figure out. Longing, probably. He leans in close, slowly to give Louis time to move away, but Louis doesn’t pull back. He drops his gaze from Harry’s eyes to his lips, holding his breath because Harry’s _so close_ and his heart is hammering and mind racing all of a sudden with want. He wants to kiss Harry and he wants Harry to press him to the grass they’re sitting on, holding him down with his weight, and he wants to know everything there is to know about Harry, to learn the curves of his lips and spine and what makes him smile so broadly his dimple pops and what he cares about most in the world. Louis wants everything Harry would give him and more.

“Like?” Louis whispers, his tongue darting out to brush across his lower lip. If he moved forward an inch, he’d be licking Harry’s.

“I wouldn’t have promised myself to the sea, that’s for sure,” Harry says, holding a serious expression for a beat before bursting into laughter. He falls backwards, clutching his belly as he giggles at some joke Louis doesn’t get.

“What are you on about?” Louis questions, giggling himself a little because Harry’s laugh is contagious.

“You know, who’s a pirate’s greatest love? It be the sea,” Harry explains around his laughter. Louis wants to slap himself in the face for missing it, and slap Harry for ruining the moment with such a shit joke.

“I hate you,” Louis groans, falling back beside him. “That was fucking shit.”

Harry knocks Louis’ hip with the back of his hand. “It’s one of my best.”

Louis just shakes his head. They stay there most of the day, keeping the conversation light from then, and only heading back to the ship when the sun starts to set and Harry’s stomach makes the loudest growling noise Louis has ever heard in his life.

In the evening, once everyone’s eaten and the ship is sailing again, Niall pulls out his fiddle and plays while people play cards or drink or just watch the stars above them as they sail. Louis’ doing the latter, lying on the quarterdeck next to Zayn and listening to him talk about the constellations he can spot through the dark clouds rolling in.

Louis notices Harry throw his cards in the air on the other side of the main deck, pushing Liam over with a pout on his face. He chuckles softly to himself, watching Liam say something and Harry responds, more animated than normal. He’s glad that whatever happened with the witch today hasn’t ruined Harry’s mood completely, even if he’s still being an arse and not telling Louis anything.

Louis sits up suddenly, an idea popping into his head. He wonders why he didn’t think of it before, and excuses himself from Zayn to walk as casually as he can to Harry’s cabin. It’s not locked, thankfully, so Louis makes sure no one’s around as he slips inside and shuts the door behind him.

The room is as beautiful and warm as he remembered, but Louis doesn’t pay too much attention to that now. He doesn’t have a lot of time, Harry could come to bed any minute, so Louis needs to get moving. The chest of drawers calls for his attention first, so Louis opens the top one slowly and rifles around. There’s nothing but clothes, lots of fine silk and cotton shirts with only one other pair of trousers and some folded underwear. As interesting as that is, it’s nothing that helps Louis.

The other drawers are just as uninspiring, giving Louis nothing to go on. He moves to the desk next, sorting through the papers as carefully as he can. The same maps he saw the other day are there, and he’s still no closer to figuring out what they’re mapping but after finding out about Harry’s involvement with witches, he suspects it’s distinctly more magical than he first thought. Still, there’s nothing but sheets of finances and the maps.

Louis looks under Harry’s bed next, and there he hits the jackpot. He pulls out an old chest, faded brown leather covering the wooden structure. There’s a shining metal lock keeping it shut, _H.E.S._ engraved on to the metal. Louis runs his fingers over the edges, wondering where Harry keeps the key and how hard it’d be for Louis to steal it.

Steps echo down the corridor, gradually getting louder, and Louis kicks the chest back under the bed in a panic. He stands up just as Harry swings his cabin door open, leaning against the frame and staring at Louis.

“What are you up to, Louis?” Harry asks, amusement colouring his voice and quirking his lips. He taps his ringed-fingers against the exposed skin of his chest, surveying Louis intently.

Louis folds his arms, trying to act casual, like he has a legitimate reason to be in Harry’s cabin and not because he was snooping around. “Waiting for you, of course,” he says, the lie rolling off his tongue easily. “What took you so long?”

Harry lifts his brows. “I didn’t realise my presence was wanted,” he drawls. “Why’re you waiting for me, then?”

Louis beckons Harry forward, crooking his finger until Harry’s standing in front of him, their chests almost touching. Louis leans up slowly, stretching his spine and letting his hands flatten against Harry’s chest, the soft material of his shirt rubbing against his palms. “Why’d you think?” he whispers, letting his lips brush against Harry’s smooth cheek.

“Really?” Harry laughs softly, bringing his hands to cradle Louis hips. His fingers dig into Louis’ clothes and it’s incredibly hard not to think about how big Harry’s hands are on Louis’ body, how easy it’d be for him to slip them under Louis’ clothes, hot on his skin. “And you’re not here because you want to uncover whatever it is you think I’m hiding?”

“Well, I do love a good mystery, me,” Louis replies, pressing his lips to Harry’s cheeks for a lingering moment. He pulls back, forcing himself out of Harry’s grasp and stepping closer to the door. “But Niall and his fiddle can’t be left alone too long, and you were too late. Another time.” He turns and winks over his shoulder, before heading up to the main deck.

Harry follows him up, or so Louis notices when he reaches the main deck and Harry grabs his wrist. He coaxes him over to the edge of the deck, away from the rest of the crew. There’s a pattering of light rain on Louis’ skin, a welcome relief from the warm heat of the evening, but unease settles in his stomach anyway. It’s rained before, but only lightly, so he’s never experienced a proper storm on the sea.

“D’you think it’ll storm?” Louis asks before Harry can launch into whatever it was he wanted to say. It’s not that Louis’ _not_ interested, it’s just he’d rather avoid talking about the fact that it’s probably only a matter of time until one of them takes a leap and kisses the other, and what that’ll mean for them. Louis’ made a home here, surprisingly enough, and he likes Harry, he does, but Harry’s still hiding something and Louis won’t get too close until he knows what it is.

Harry cocks his head, bringing his hand to cup Louis’ waist as he listens to the wind. “Maybe,” he answers, voice a low drawl. The second the word leaves his lips, the rain gets heavier, and Louis can hear Niall in the distance yelling out. “Make that probably.”

“Will it be bad?” Louis presses, looking out to the ocean. He knows how quickly storms can roll in, and the sea is strong and powerful; _The Rose_ is nothing in comparison.

“You might want to keep a bucket with you if you go below deck,” Harry says, following Louis’ gaze. The waves are picking up with the wind, clouds fully blanketing the sky now. The moon is nowhere in sight, and the torches are slowly being taken below decks by the rest of the crew, or being drenched in the now heavy rain. Louis can barely see Harry anymore, just his outline in what little light there is from the odd surviving lamp.

“Will you come with?” Louis asks, his teeth chattering as he wipes the water from his fringe, slicking it back off his forehead. His clothes are soaking now; he’ll have to sleep naked if he wants to avoid catching a chill.

“No, I’m going to take over the steering from Jeff,” Harry has to shout over the wind, finally looking back from the ocean to where Jeff is still gripping the steering wheel of the ship. He doesn’t seem affected by the cold and wet at all. “I need someone to stay with me to lookout, will you?”

Louis hesitates. If he stays on deck with Harry, he’ll be getting ill regardless of whether he sleeps in his soaking clothes. But… but Harry’s asking for his help and Louis left him last time, when the pirate ship attacked, so he won’t leave him alone again. “I will,” he says, it was barely a decision in the end.

Harry takes Louis’ hand to guide him up the slippery wooden surface of the deck, all the way to the steering point where Harry has to lean in close to Jeff’s ear just to be heard. Louis holds on to Harry to stop himself slipping; the ship is a death trap with the way it’s rocking more violently with each passing minute, and the rain lashing on the floor.

Just as Jeff climbs down the ladder, closing the hatch behind him, there’s a flash of lightning in the distance. Louis jumps, slipping to the floor and whacking his knee against the deck and crumpling in a heap. He groans, but the noise is overwhelmed by the crack of thunder overhead. It’s more terrifying than Louis’ ever found it before, the booming so loud he feels like it could shatter his hearing, and a spark of fear runs cold in Louis’ veins.

“You alright?” Harry yells, lifting Louis up off the ground and making sure he’s steady and holding on to something again, before quickly returning to the wheel.

Louis nods sharply, slowly relaxing his leg and testing for injury. Other than a dull ache, there’s no real pain, thankfully. He looks to where Harry’s steering, mostly trying to keep in control of the ship rather than actually navigate through the storm. Louis can’t see much at all on the horizon, too many dark storm clouds blurring his vision.

“What am I meant to be looking out for?” Louis shouts, wincing as the rain turns icy and slices across his face. It stings fiercely, and Louis wishes he were somewhere warm and sunny and _light_ , somewhere where he’s not terrified of getting struck by lightning or the ship capsizing.

“Anything dangerous,” Harry answers, gritting his teeth. His long hair is plastered to his neck and cheeks, whipping over his eyes in the wind. Louis waits for him to take a hand off the wheel and brush the curls away, but he never does. It must be to keep the wheel from spinning wildly out of control with the force of the wind, Louis figures, so he shuffles closer to Harry and wipes the hair from his face. He tucks as much of it as he can behind Harry’s ears, and he thinks he hears Harry let out a slightly stressed chuckle as he does so.

Before Louis can respond, there’s another flash of lightning illuminating the whole sky, and a crackle coming from the top of the mast. Louis cranes his neck around to look up, and sees fire sitting at the top of the mast.

“Fuck,” he hisses, staring at the fire in horror. The flames aren’t flickering or blowing in the wind, instead shooting straight out of the top of the mast and glowing as bright as a violet. It’s nothing like any fire Louis’ ever seen, which makes it all the more worrying. “ _Fuck_ , Harry, what do we do?”

Harry grunts, his hands curled around the wheel so tightly his knuckles are white. There’s a faint steam curling off his cheeks, and heat scorching Louis’ fingers where they’re still resting on Harry’s skin. Louis’ eyes widen in horror. “What is it?”

“The ship’s on fucking fire,” Louis tells him, yelling to be heard. He tears his fingers away from Harry cheeks and gestures wildly to the mast, still alight with the bizarre purple fire.

Harry takes one look and almost chokes, letting go of the wheel and spinning around. “That’s not real fire, Lou,” he says so quietly Louis can barely hear him. “That’s St. Elmo’s fire. _Helene._ That’s a good omen.”

“It’s on fucking fire, Harry, of course it’s not a good fucking omen,” Louis snaps, still staring at the steam rising from Harry’s cheeks with every droplet of rain that splashes against him. It’s the strangest fucking thing. “What the hell is happening to you?”

Harry snaps his gaze away from the fire on the mast, frowning at Louis for a moment before there’s another crackle and the fire is out, water splashing on Harry’s face once again. “Nothing,” Harry says quickly, like _that_ is going to set Louis’ mind at ease and rid him of his questions. “I’m fine. You should go below deck.”

“And lea—”

“Just go, Louis,” Harry interrupts sharply, turning his back on Louis. Louis opens his mouth to protest but the searing memory of his fingers burning against Harry’s unnaturally hot cheeks sparks in his mind and he doesn’t think he’s in the right state to be near Harry right now.

Louis nods, turning away and hauling his way across the deck, passing a handful of crew members who stayed on top to help out Harry. When he gets to the sleeping quarters, he strips off his clothing and wipes himself off with a spare piece of cloth Niall found for him. He goes to bed plagued with curiosity, unable to stop thinking about what the fuck Harry could possibly be hiding.

***

Their next port is Melos, a city even larger than Ios. After the storm, sailing there was smooth, though Louis spent as much time as he could absorbing the warmth of the sun and trying not to sneeze all over the wood he was showing Liam how to cut. When he did, he’d just wheedle Liam into cleaning it up. All part of the learning process, after all.

Louis plans to follow Harry again when he leaves the ship. He needs to find out if Harry’s going to visit another witch and what exactly is so awful about the necklace he’s after that even a _witch_ won’t help him. The only problem with his plan is Liam and Zayn corner him while Harry leaves the boat, meaning he disappears before Louis can track him down.

“You disappeared all day in the last port,” Zayn says as a type of explanation, leading Louis down the gangway and away from the docks, further into the town. “You can’t slack on your duties if you want to remain a part of the crew.”

“Like you’ll kick me off,” Louis retorts. The serious expression set on Zayn’s face falls, a bright smile replacing it. Louis grins back; Zayn never keeps up the stern façade when it comes to Louis, they’re too close for that now. “You’re just as bad as I am. How much should I bet that last port, you snuck off with Niall somewhere?”

“You can’t prove that, mate,” Zayn laughs, poking Louis in the side and walking faster. Louis speeds up to keep pace, and Liam trails behind. For all the duties Zayn jokes about, Louis really hasn’t been assigned that much. They pick up more food for the ship, trade some gold for good quality wood Liam and Louis can use to repair some of the damage done to the ship during the storm – nothing major, just a few unstable sections of railing – so by the time lunch comes around, Louis’ writing a letter to his family.

“It’s probably not a good idea to mention we got attacked by pirates, is it?” Louis asks, idly thinking out loud. He taps the quill against the paper and huffs when ink splashes across his words.

“Soph likes to know when we do,” Liam mutters, in the middle of his own letter. “She says if I tell her everything's good and easy for too long, she gets suspicious and thinks things are worse than they actually are. Just don’t make it into a big deal.”

“Fair point,” Louis allows, already moving on to the next subject. So far, he’s not written anything about Harry’s weird behaviour or his secret trips to visit witches. That’ll just worry his mum and sisters even more, but mostly he thinks he’d feel guilty blabbing about it to his family when he’s not even shared it with Niall, Harry’s first mate.

Louis quickly finishes up his letter, letting his mum know the exact amount of money he’s sending so she’ll know if any gets stolen, and that he’ll be home soon. Whenever ‘soon’ is, Louis doesn’t know, but he thinks it’d be a comfort for his mum to know that he hasn’t left forever.

As they walk back to the ship at the end of the day, Louis catches Harry walking just a ways ahead of them. He excuses himself from the conversation between Zayn and Liam, jogging his way through the crowd of people and down the emptying cobblestone path towards Harry. He’s sweating lightly by the time he reaches him, the hot evening sun and his arguably poor stamina making him pant just a bit.

“Successful day?” he asks, catching sight of the smile spread across Harry’s lips when he sees him. Harry’s got one hand stuffed in the pocket of his fine red coat, the golden detailing glistening in the sunlight, and Louis can’t help but wonder how he’s not absolutely sweltering in that.

“You could say that,” Harry replies, rolling his shoulders. “Picked up an important item, one I’ve been after for a while, so yeah, pretty successful.”

“What’d you pick up?” Louis’ mind flashes back to the necklace Harry was after, and the St. Elmo’s fire during the storm signalling good things to come. It’s not ludicrous to think everything is connected.

Harry looks at Louis with such an intensity Louis can’t breathe for a moment. “Something very specific that cost me a small fortune,” he drawls, bringing ringed-fingers up to his lower lip and pinching it gently. “But it was worth it, I hope.”

Louis resists a snort; Harry’s not giving him anything. “One of a kind item, then?”

“Definitely.” Harry rakes his fingers through his hair, flipping his curls over to one side of his head. They walk up the gangway and Harry heads to go down below decks, with Louis following him intently. Harry shoots him a look, brows creased, but Louis smiles tightly back and keeps walking closely behind him. Harry only pauses when he gets to the middle of his room, Louis hovering by his side.

“So if I do this,” Louis trails off, digging his hand into Harry’s pocket and grabbing the chain he can feel inside. He tears it from Harry’s coat and clutches it to his chest, watching Harry’s eyes widen as he processes what Louis’ done. “You’ll want it back?”

“Louis, you don’t know what you’re messing with,” Harry says lowly, extending his hand towards Louis. “Give it back to me.”

“What is so important about this necklace?” Louis asks, ignoring Harry’s command. He holds the necklace tightly, the intricately linked chains fragile in Louis’ hands, giving way to a heavy glittering jewel surrounded by gold at the base. “Why are you asking for the help of witches? And what the fuck are you hiding that scares them so much they refuse to help you?”

Harry lets out a frustrated grunt and makes a swipe for the necklace, but Louis’ quick, dodging out of the way before Harry can reach him. He hurries to the door and grips the necklace even tighter.

“Give it back, Louis,” Harry pleads, desperation ringing clear.

Louis steels his jaw, shaking his head. “I will throw this necklace overboard if you don’t tell me what the fuck is going on with you. What are you hiding?”

“The ship is cursed!” Harry yells, squeezing his hands into fists at his sides, the tendons of his neck visibly straining. Every fragment of him is wired and pulled taut, like he’s ready to snap at any moment. “ _The Rose_ is cursed, and I am trying to break it. Now give me back my necklace.”

“Cursed?” Louis echoes, his fingers going lax so the necklace falls to the floor. Harry darts forward and grabs it, stuffing it back in his pocket before Louis can even react. “What do you mean, cursed?”

“ _The Rose_ is a cursed ship, what else could I mean by that?” Harry sits at the end of his bed, running his fingers through his hair again. A strand catches on a ring, and he winces, untangling it gently. Louis watches him move carefully, looking for any signs that he’s joking, that he’s anything other than completely, utterly serious.

“Cursed in what way?” Louis presses. He didn’t think, of all the things Harry could be hiding, _this_ was what his secret would be. “Why didn’t you tell me when I came aboard that I’d be working on a cursed ship? Did you think I’d want that?”

“No one knows,” Harry says sharply, looking up at Louis with a tight set to his jaw. “Only you and I  know about the curse, no one else. And I won’t tell you what the curse is, just that it doesn’t affect you or any other crew member at all. It’s a curse on the ship, nothing more.”

Louis frowns, trying to slow his thoughts down where they’re racing in his head. He can’t find the words to formulate them properly, everything is just a blur of _what the fuck_? “What does it affect then? What’s the curse on the ship?”

Harry smooths his expression over, only his eyes still wide like he’s scared. “That’s none of your business,” he replies evenly. “You can’t tell anyone about it, either.”

Louis scoffs. “Why not?”

“Because it’s my burden to bear,” Harry snaps, frustration breaking through the momentary coolness. Louis isn’t surprised there; Harry’s charming and quick on his feet, but a terrible liar in the end. “You shouldn’t even know. The curse doesn’t harm you in anyway, so the less you know, the better. I don’t want any of my crew knowing either, so please, Louis, don’t tell anyone.”

Louis bites his lip, thinking. The crew have the right to know they’re living and working on a cursed ship. They should know, but Harry is the captain and _he_ should be the one that tells them. Especially if he’s right, and the curse doesn’t actually hurt them, whatever it is. “Fine, I won’t tell anyone, but I want to know more about the curse.”

“I’m not telling you what it is,” Harry insists, crossing his arms. He looks like he’s pouting, and Louis resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Just trust me that you won’t come to any harm.”

“Okay, I’ll trust you,” Louis says cautiously, since he’s got no other choice, really. He takes a seat next to Harry, sitting close enough that their thighs are pressed together, bodies swaying gently with the rhythm of the ocean waves. “But if it’s not harming anyone, why won’t you tell the crew?”

Harry tucks a lock of hair behind his ear and sighs. “People are terrified of curses,” he says simply. “They’ll leave, no matter how much I assure them they’re safe here, and word will get out. This… what I do on my ship, I offer my crew a safe haven, a chance to get outside their own worlds and explore. I can’t take that away from them by ruining that with knowledge that the ship is cursed. And, as selfish as it might be, I don’t want to be alone.”

The soft sadness that laces Harry’s tone has Louis’ heart aching inside his chest. He can’t imagine Harry being alone, not when he’s naturally the focus of so many people, everyone warming to him so easily. Even Louis couldn’t keep up his initial dislike of Harry for long.

“Not everyone will leave,” Louis tells him, resting his hand on top of Harry’s. “I’m not going to.”

“You mean you’re not leaving _The Rose_ the second we dock in our next port?” Harry raises his brows, genuinely surprised.

“Course not, you pay me too much for me to leave over a curse,” Louis jokes, nudging Harry gently. “But no, I’m not leaving. So you should tell the others, they might be able to help. Zayn’s half-siren after all, he must know a thing or two about magic. How’re you even planning on breaking the curse?”

“There’s an ancient temple to Hecate on an island at the outskirts of Greece,” Harry says. “Once I figure out how to get there, I’ll offer her a ritual sacrifice and supplicate, asking for the curse to be broken. If anyone can do it, Hecate can. I just have to hope what I can offer is enough.”

“That why you needed the necklace?” Louis probes, idly stroking the back of Harry’s hand with his thumb. It seems to calm him. “As part of the sacrifice?”

“It was Cassandra’s,” Harry answers, and Louis can barely contain his wince.

“You mean the priestess of Apollo?” Louis squeezes Harry’s hand. “That Cassandra?”

“Yeah, that Cassandra,” Harry confirms, flopping backwards on the bed and covering his face with his hands. His shirt rides up a bit, and Louis can see the tan skin of his belly poking out from underneath the material.

“The curse must be pretty hefty then,” Louis comments idly. “What brought it about? Did you do something to piss off her or one of her followers?”

“That’s personal,” Harry says from under his hands, voice muffled. “Honestly, Louis, the less anyone knows, the better. I need this to stay quiet.”

“I won’t tell a soul,” Louis promises. He lies back next to Harry, staring up at the carved wooden ceiling. It’s easy, like this, to close his eyes and let go of everything, just let himself get lost in the swaying of the ship and the gentle breathing of Harry next to him. Sometimes, Louis thinks that’s all he needs. He never imagined himself becoming a sailor – pirate, technically – and he never imagined himself being content with this kind of life, but he thinks, lying here with Harry, he could be.

“Probably not what you thought I was hiding all along, is it?” Harry asks, like he can read Louis’ mind.

“Can’t say that it was,” Louis laughs in response. “You always keep things interesting, though, right? And now you’ve got no excuse not to let me come with you next time you hurry off from the ship, right?”

Harry takes his hands from his face, turning to narrow his eyes at Louis. “Speaking of which, did you follow me back in Ios? How else would you know I visited witches and they refused to help?”

“Yeah, I followed you,” Louis admits, ducking his head sheepishly. “That’s what happens when you hide things, H. People get curious.”

“ _You_ ,” Harry corrects, jabbing his finger in Louis’ direction. “You get curious and invasive.”

Louis bats his hand, shrugging. “You’re not wrong there.” Louis pauses, waiting a beat before speaking again. “What happened to your skin the other day in the storm? It got like, hot while the ship was on fire? The rain fizzled off your cheek the second it touched your skin.”

“I think you were imagining things,” Harry says slowly. “Your first storm at sea is a stressful experience. You were probably seeing things that weren’t actually happening. Nothing was up with my skin.”

“You’re still hiding things,” Louis replies, not believing a word Harry’s saying. He _knows_ what he saw, and if Harry’s still hiding the true nature of the curse, Louis’ not stupid enough to just buy everything he says as gospel truth. “And if you don’t want to tell me, I can’t force you, but I’m not gonna let this go.”

Harry levels him with an unimpressed stare for a long moment, before breaking into an exaggerated groan. “I regret ever letting you on to my ship.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Louis says with a wink, patting Harry’s belly. Harry giggles, like any respectable pirate would, and relaxes his body. Louis catches himself staring at the space where Harry’s shirt has risen, and shakes his head to clear his thoughts. “I’m gonna go, but I meant what I said about coming with you next time you leave the ship in a mad dash. You don’t have to do this alone, you know.”

Harry shrugs as Louis gets off the bed, his eyes shutting. “I’m sure I couldn’t stop you, even if I tried.”

Louis smiles to himself as he leaves the cabin, Harry really couldn’t.

***

([xxx](http://louehvolution.tumblr.com/post/141982576746))

***

Kythria is a rocky island, waves crashing against jagged cliffs as they come into view. Seagulls circle the bay, and Louis sits in the crow’s eye watching them warily. Niall lost a chunk of bread to one at their last port, and Louis doesn’t want to suffer the same fate. Not when this has been their longest journey between ports, and supplies have had to be stretched between the crew. They still weren’t on a long enough journey to run low, but Harry is overcautious, and the fresh food only lasts for so long anyway.

Almost as if Louis had summoned him with his thoughts, Harry whistles up at Louis from the bottom of the mast. He waves exaggeratedly for Louis to come down when he catches his attention, so Louis flips him off, hanging about at the top of the mast for a moment before crawling down the rigging. He can’t have Harry thinking he’s at his beck and call.

“We’re almost there,” Harry tells him when Louis’ feet hit the deck with a satisfying thud. He and Liam reinforced the floors with resin over the last few days because the weather was perfect for it – so hot Louis almost died – and now it feels like he could jump and stamp and dance on the wood for hours, and it’d still hold up. He’s pleased, and given the soft smile on Harry’s face, so is Harry.

“I can see that, H,” Louis replies, walking by Harry’s side up to the railing enclosing the deck, leaning over and letting the sea breeze rush across his face. It makes his eyes sting and his breath get trapped in his throat, but he likes it, surprisingly enough.

“I’m looking for a map here,” Harry whispers in Louis’ ear, standing so his hips are pressed to Louis’ side. From a distance, Louis is sure it’d look casual enough, but it doesn’t fucking feel like that right now. Louis feels… not trapped, but surrounded by Harry, and what’s more disconcerting is how much he likes it. “One that’s not like other maps. It’s a little more… specialised.”

“Why do you need a map to break the curse?” Louis asks, angling his head just enough to stop his voice getting carried away in the wind.

“I need water from a fountain blessed by Dionysus _Soter_ ,” Harry answers, bringing his hand to rest on the dip of Louis’ waist, whispering in his ear. Louis suppresses a shiver, turning to face Harry, inadvertently causing Harry’s hand to slip to the base of his spine. “But I don’t know how to get there. Kythria is famous for its maps.”

“Is it?” Louis smells the honey scented soap Harry keeps on board the ship for washing while he’s this close – it’s making it hard for him to think properly.

“Well, it’s famous for its black market and within witch circles, there are lots of valuable things there,” Harry elaborates. “Including maps. Like you’ve seen, I need very specific maps. Regular ones drawn up by just any old sailor won’t cut it.”

Louis swallows heavily, resisting the urge to run his hands through Harry’s soft-looking curls. Louis’ own hair is coarse with the salty sea spray and the rough wind, he doesn’t know how Harry manages to keep his so perfectly curled and delicate looking. “Let’s see what we can find, then,” Louis says eventually, stepping out of Harry’s grasp and walking over to Jeff, who’s steering their way into the dock.

He chats with Niall and Liam while they anchor, and waits around for everyone to disembark until it’s just him and Harry who haven’t travelled down the gangway. Harry’s leaning against the railing, hip cocked and eyes trained on Louis when he finally makes his way over.

“Is it a secret marketplace we’ll be going to, then?” Louis asks as they walk down the gangway, the sun beating down on them. How Harry is managing long sleeves, even as loose as they are, is beyond Louis.

Harry shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair. “No, it’s a cartographer’s house,” he says, “but he’s… he’s not known for being friendly.”

“Well neither are you,” Louis points out with a grin, thinking of Harry’s cruel reputation. “So maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“Right, that’s what we are,” Harry murmurs, “lucky.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to charm him,” Louis says, following Harry down the thin, rocky path heading towards the cliffs. The main town looks to be in the opposite direction, but Harry doesn’t seem to think twice about the direction he takes, and well, Louis’ relying on him here. As long as they don’t have to actually climb all the way up the cliffs, he’ll be fine. “I’ll threaten him if I need to.”

Harry bursts into laughter, throwing his head back. Louis presses his lips together to try and fight off the fond smile, replacing it with a mock-scowl. “Am I not threatening enough, Harold?”

“Not in the slightest,” Harry laughs, grinning giddily at Louis. It makes him look younger, this broad smile, less weighed down by curses and responsibilities. “Don’t think you could scare a baby, Lou. Much less a descendent of Athena.”

“How rude,” Louis huffs, nudging Harry playfully, “and a descendent of Athena? Really? Fuck, _The Rose_ ’s curse really is steeped in some shit.”

“Well it was a curse cast by a powerful witch and a descendant of a goddess,” Harry says, shrugging. “So it makes sense that it needs the intervention of the gods to break it. And it’s a distant descendent of Athena, or so the witches told me. She said he’s got just enough immortal blood to help him see things more accurately. I guess we’ll find out what that means exactly when we get there.”

The walk to the house takes them all morning, and Louis’ sweating like a pig when they finally get to the small cottage overlooking a particularly sharp ledge. It’s the only building in leagues, and Louis’ not surprised the people of Kythria didn’t settle up on the cliffs given the fucking trek it takes to get here.

“You look like you’re about to collapse,” Harry comments, wiping sweat from his own brow and sitting on a flat rock. There’s an unspoken, mutual agreement that they’ll wait a bit to cool down before they go knocking on supposedly unfriendly stranger’s doors. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Louis answers, trying not to let his heavy-breathing become too apparent. “Just a bit out of shape, I guess. How are you faring in that shirt? You must be boiling.”

Harry laughs breathlessly, letting his head fall forwards a bit. “I am,” he says, glancing up at Louis and tugging at the sleeves of his shirt, bright colourful patterns adorning it. “If we don’t get under shade soon, I’m liable to pass out.”

“Why wear it then?” Louis asks, because really, _why_?

“I need to look the part, don’t I?” Harry replies, like it’s obvious. Louis fucking knew it was all for appearance. “I like wearing them, and I look a lot more like a fierce pirate like this, don’t you think?”

Louis nods. Harry’s outfit, from the shirt to the jewellery and boots, is all part of the persona. They take a few more minutes to gather their breath, and then Harry’s flashing Louis a quick thumbs up and knocking on the door.

There’s no response, so Harry knocks again. After the third knock, Louis wonders if the people Harry visits can sense him coming and purposefully don’t let him it, since it always takes so long to get a response.

“I’m just gonna go in,” Harry says, pushing open the door and stepping inside. “Hello?” he calls out, Louis following him hurriedly. “Is anyone home?”

Louis looks around as they wait for a response, hovering awkwardly. There are maps everywhere, covering the walls and the single table in the centre of the room. There’s a short corridor leading off from the centre of the back wall, just to the right of an unlit hearth. It doesn’t look like it’s been lit for days, and Louis’ starting to question the legitimacy of Harry’s information. Witches are no more trustworthy than pirates, after all.

“Who the fuck are you?” comes a rough voice from the corridor. There’s a small, ragged-looking man leaning against the stone walls. “And what the fuck are you doing in my home?”

“I’m Captain Styles of _The Rose_ ,” Harry says, standing straighter and squaring his shoulders. “This is my crewmate, Louis. I was told to enquire about a map from you.”

“Captain Styles,” the man repeats, narrowing his brows and stepping forwards. He walks with a limp, Louis notes; his left leg seems significantly weaker than his right. “Des?”

Harry’s expression doesn’t change. “Harry, actually,” he corrects, and the man nods, a bitter smile twisting his lips.

“I didn’t think you were Des. My memory might be poor, but I wouldn’t forget Des’ face. What makes you think I’ll help you?” the man questions. “What makes you think I _can_ help you?”

“Maybe the thousands of maps in this room alone,” Louis chips in, nose wrinkling at the man’s tone. Whatever issue he has Harry’s father shouldn’t apply to Harry. “Don’t think it’s too insane to think you might be able to help us.”

Harry shoots Louis a wide-eyed glance, mouthing something Louis can’t make out. “I wasn’t aware you’d met my father, Alexander,” Harry says to the man – Louis wasn’t aware Harry knew his name, “but I promise you, I’m not my father. Whatever he did that’s caused you grief, I’ll right it if I can.”

Alexander scoffs, walking forwards to the table and spreading his arms towards the sheets of creased paper covering the rough wood. Louis tries not to gag as a foul stench hits his nose, appearing out of nowhere. It lessens slightly when Alexander lowers his arms and right… clearly bathing isn’t high on his priorities.

“He stole some of my most precious maps,” Alexander says, turning back around and glaring at Harry. “Maps that took me years to piece together. Can you return them?”

Harry hesitates, conflict drawn between his brows. “No,” he answers finally, resigned. “But I have money I can–”

“Then I can’t help you,” Alexander interrupts with a finality. “Why would I provide you with maps when all your family has done is cause me grief? Just so you can find your way to a city to pillage and–”

“That’s not our intention,” Louis snaps, stepping forwards, between Harry and Alexander. “We’re looking for a fountain; it’s a purely noble cause, I assure you. You know shit about Harry and what he’s like as a captain, so if you’re not going to help us because of some bullshit pre-conceived biases, then you can fuck right off, mate.”

Silence hangs between the three of them, with Harry’s fingers twitching at his scabbard. Alexander meets Louis’ glare with his own, opening his mouth and Louis thinks they’re going to be kicked out and this whole journey will be a waste, when Alexander says, “What kind of fountain are you looking for?”

“The lost fountain of Dionysus,” Harry answers, dropping his hand from his side. “I just need to know the safest route to get there.”

Alexander raises his brows. “Legend says that’s guarded by merfolk, you know that?”

“I know,” Harry replies, and Louis certainly didn’t know they’d be coming into contact with _mermaids_. It shouldn’t surprise him, though, he’s already in the presence of someone related to a fucking goddess, and Zayn is half-siren. Magic is everywhere on Harry’s ship, unlike it was back at home. “I have a plan for that.”

Alexander nods, stroking his beard in thought. “How about I make you a deal? I will draw up a map for you today. It won’t be my best work, but it will be good enough to get you to the fountain. I’ll require full payment in advance for my services, but I want something else too. Once you’ve visited the fountain, I want you to bring me back a vial of mermaid’s blood.”

“Mermaid’s blood?” Louis frowns. “What do you want that for?”

“Healing properties,” Alexander supplies. “If used correctly, a vial of mermaid’s blood can help cure any injury or illness. As you can probably tell, I have a few of my own I’d like to be rid of.”

“I’ll try my best,” Harry promises, which is more than what Louis would promise if he were in his position.

Alexander pushes himself away from the table and stalks towards Harry. Louis covers his nose as subtly as he can, trying not to cough. “Swear it to me,” Alexander demands, stretching out his hand. “Swear that you will bring me back what I ask for, or I will not help you.”

Harry clasps his hand, shaking it firmly. “I swear.”

“Then take a seat. I’ll see what I can do for you now,” Alexander says, gesturing to the two finely polished wooden chairs in the corner of room. Louis sits carefully on the edge of the seat, watching as Harry cautiously sits next to him, and Alexander mills about the table. Louis assumes he’s gathering supplies when he leaves the room, going back down the corridor, with an armful of ink wells, quills and papers.

They wait in silence for a long while, the sun slowly travelling across the sky as Alexander works. At one point, Harry starts humming a tune Louis doesn’t recognise, so Louis makes Harry teach him how the song goes. It’s soft lullaby, Louis quickly finds out, and Harry’s deep voice is perfect for crooning the song in Louis’ ear.

“Did your mum sing this to you when you were a child?” Louis asks, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder. Louis’ mum used to sing a song about stars twinkling in the sky at night; Louis can still remember the melody, even though he’s not heard her sing it for years. A sharp ache racks through his chest as he realises he hasn’t seen his mum for well over a month now, hasn’t heard from her at all. His letters have become more sporadic over the last few ports, so they’ll have to take a detour to somewhere he can send one before they head back to the ship. Even if he can’t hear from her, Louis ought to keep her updated about his life. At the very least, that he’s still alive.

“Yeah, when I was really young,” Harry answers, sounding almost wistful. “I only lived with my mum and sister until I was six, then I stayed with my dad on _The Rose_ and it’s been my home since. Mum used to sing it all the time, when I was a baby she was trying to put to sleep, or when she was sewing with Gemma and I was practising my writing. It reminds me of her.”

Louis tries to think if Harry ever mentioned his family before, other than his dad. “Are you still in contact with them? Your mum and sister.”

Harry’s chest hitches, holding his breath until he exhales with a sigh. “No, we didn’t exactly part on good terms, and my dad didn’t encourage sending letters. I tried, um, after he died, to let Mum and Gemma know, but I’ve not heard any response so I don’t know if they’re still living in the same place or anything that’s happened to them.”

“What’s parting on bad terms mean when you’re six years old?” Louis asks.

“My dad was a pirate,” Harry shrugs, like it’s self-explanatory. Which… that’s fair. If Louis had tried to run off to a pirate ship at six years old, his mum would have had a fit. “He came to our home in Athens and asked me to join him on the ship, said he needed as much time with me as he could so I could learn everything to keep the ship going if something happened to him. Before that, I rarely saw my dad so of course I wanted to spend time with him, and honestly? What six-year-old wouldn’t want an adventure like becoming a pirate?”

Louis nods in agreement; living in the small town that he did, Louis’ well aware of what it’s like to want to run away and go on adventures. When his sisters were born and his dad was in the navy, he had to give up those dreams pretty quickly. Harry, it seems, didn’t. “What made her let you go then?” Louis continues. “It’s understandable that you wanted to go with your dad, yeah, but no six-year-old makes proper decisions for themselves.”

“Ah, he snuck me out,” Harry says, shaking his head in memory. “Convinced me to come with him in the evening, once my mum had gone to bed. I left and never came back.”

“That’s… that’s kind of sad, actually,” Louis says. “Have you thought about going back home, to try and find them, at least?”

“Maybe when the curse is broken.” Harry runs his fingers through his hair and smiles at Louis. “ _The Rose_ is my home now, though. Even if I go back to see them, I’d never stay there. Having the freedom I do, out on the open sea… you don’t go back to land after that.”

Alexander comes out of the back room then, saving Louis from replying. There’s a rolled up scroll of paper in his hand, tied with a thin loop of rope, almost double the length of his forearm. He hands it to Harry and says, “This is all I can do for you now. You know how to use it?”

“I do,” Harry replies, thumb stroking over the rough paper. Louis doesn’t understand why Harry’s not unrolling the map to examine it, make sure everything is there and readable. He certainly doesn’t trust Alexander enough to just accept it, but when Harry stands and looks over his shoulder at Louis, that’s what he’s doing. “Thank you for this.”

“I’ll see you soon,” Alexander says in parting, and Louis and Harry leave the small hut. It’s still hot out, probably late-afternoon, and Louis stretches his arms above his head as he lets the mountain breeze cool his skin.

Rolling his shoulders, he looks to Harry. “Why don’t you have a peek inside the map? Check that everything’s alright?”

“Alexander’s maps have supernatural properties,” Harry explains, brushing hair from his face. “The route you need to take can only be viewed under specific circumstances – opening it now would be pointless.”

“Of course it would be,” Louis remarks, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Nothing is ever simple with you.”

“I’m a cursed – the captain of a cursed ship, what did you expect?” Harry laughs. Louis narrows his brows at the slip up, but he doesn’t call Harry out on it, he just files it away to think about later. He’s still dying to know what the curse actually involves, but Harry hasn’t come any closer to telling him.

“D’you mind if I send a letter before we head back to the ship?” Louis asks, starting the long walk down the hills. “I haven’t written to my family in a while.”

“Sure,” Harry agrees. “Do you miss them?”

Louis scratches the back of his neck, flicking his gaze up to Harry. “A lot,” he answers, “but not as much as I thought I would. At least when I first joined the crew, I thought I’d be thinking about how much I miss them. Now, it’s like, yeah, I do miss them but it’s just at the back of my mind now. I think there’s something to what you said earlier – when you’ve experienced the freedom of the sea, I think living back on land becomes a lot less appealing.”

Harry hums in response, and they walk the rest of the way in mostly silence, chatting occasionally when Harry isn’t so lost in thought, and Louis isn’t mentally composing the letter to his family. By the time they get to the marketplace, they spot Niall and Zayn walking towards them, away from the marketplace.

“You guys get what you need?” Niall asks, balancing a short stack of cotton, leather, and a chunk of wood in his hands. Louis will have to ask what it’s all for later, but then who knows when it comes to Niall.

“We did,” Harry says. “We’re just on our way to send a letter, then we’ll be setting sail. It shouldn’t take too long, I think I heard Lou muttering what he’s gonna write, so can you have everyone board the ship and prepare it for sail?”

“Will do, Cap,” Niall says over Louis affronted noise, grinning as Louis pinches Harry’s arm. Zayn waves them goodbye, and Harry and Louis start walking again.

Harry was right, it doesn’t take long at all for Louis to write his letter, and send it off for delivery. They’re far away enough that it’ll take a while for the letter to actually get to his family, so he apologises for not sending one sooner and encloses as much money as he thinks will actually make it to them.

They’re walking back through the market, Harry talking about a story he heard in one of their last ports, when Louis sees it. The shining silver colouring of the ring catches his eye, resting at the edge of a table surrounded by other pieces of jewellery. Immediately, he can picture Harry wearing it. What’s more, the thought of Louis having some kind of physical mark on Harry fills him with a strange sort of satisfaction. He’s sent all his money to his family, and the ring looks expensive, so without even thinking, without stopping to question whether this is a good idea, Louis quickly scoops the ring up into his palm and keeps walking. He notices Harry falter next to him, his voice hesitating mid-sentence, but Louis acts like nothing has happened. He’s gotten away with stealing little trinkets before, and he thinks he’s gotten away with this one too, except two steps later a gruff voice is shouting “ _Thief!_ ” and everything goes to hell.

“Run!” Louis yells, grabbing Harry’s hand and bursting into a sprint. Louis’ vision narrows down to a few steps ahead of him, barging through the crowds with Harry in tow. If he listened, he could probably hear guards chasing them, maybe even the stall owner joining in if they felt like risking their possessions by leaving them for the chase. Instead, he can hear his own heartbeat hammering in his ears, Harry’s laboured breathing next to him, and the regretful voice in the back of his head that’s letting him know how much he fucked up.

They burst out of the marketplace and on to the same gravelly path Louis finds in every fucking port, forking off in a hundred different directions to travel all over the island. Harry tightens his hand around Louis’ and speeds up, dragging him down the path to the dock. _The Rose_ ’s masts are visible in the distance, its sails spread and catching on the wind. Louis spares a quick second to glance over his shoulder, his stomach dropping when he sees that they _are_ being followed by one of the King’s guards.

In the next step, he almost stumbles, but Harry catches him at the last second. He grips his arm and runs even faster, and if Louis had the breath he’d ask how the hell Harry is managing this in those tight trousers and boots. Louis’ would be flat on the floor if he had to run for his freedom in those.

“Niall!” Harry yells when they’re speeding down the pier, so close to _The Rose_ Louis swears he can feel the familiar rock of the ship’s deck. “Raise the anchor and start sailing!”

“Are you fucking mad?” Louis snaps. That means detaching the gangway, their only way onto the ship. If it’s gone, they’re so fucked.

“We’ll jump it,” is all Harry says, pushing Louis forwards. They reach the end of the pier where _The Rose_ is drifting away, the anchor being wound steadily upwards. The gangway is detached from the side of the boat, and Zayn’s at the railing, swinging a length of rope towards them.

Louis catches the rope as it comes to him, wincing at the burn against his hands but clinging to it for dear life regardless. Harry grabs the section in front of him and they leap into the sea, knocking into each other as they plunge below the murky waters. It’s a shock of cold against Louis’ skin, and he gasps when he breaks the surface, shaking droplets from his hair like a dog. The crew pull on the rope, drawing them closer to the ship and up along the sides until they’re tumbling over the railing and hitting the wooden deck with a wet thud.

Louis sits up and sees the guard is too far away to risk jumping, and Louis laughs from exhilaration and sheer relief. The ring is still where he slipped it on to his middle finger mid-run, and Louis isn’t too old to resist flipping off the man with the metal glinting in the sunlight.

When he turns to look at Harry, sitting on the deck next to him, Louis blanches. Harry looks infinitely more pissed than Louis’ ever seen him before. His brows are furrowed and there’s a hard set to his jaw, lips pressed together and turning down at the corners, nostrils flared. But more startling is the genuine anger in his eyes, something Louis’ never seen Harry exude before.

“What the fuck was that?” he hisses, glaring at Louis.

“I…” Louis trails off, unsure of what to say. Openly admitting that he stole a ring on impulse and almost got them arrested doesn’t sound as good out loud as it did in Louis’ head at the time.

“What would we have done if we got caught?” Harry continues, so Louis doesn’t have to think of a reply. “We’re _pirates_ , Lou, we would’ve been hung! What the fuck did you even steal that was worth risking your life?”

“I’m not a pirate,” Louis snaps on instinct. The rest of the crew who were crowding around them when they landed on deck are now conveniently finding something else to occupy themselves with. Louis’ been here around a month and never has he seen Harry this angry, and he suspects it’s the same for most of the crew. “And it was a ring, for _you_.”

“What?” Harry stares at Louis incredulously. “For me? I could have fucking bought it. You didn’t need to steal it! Were you even thinking?”

“I was thinking that you’d like it,” Louis hisses, sitting up as well now, his own anger rising in his throat. “It was impulse, I don’t know! We’re fine anyway, we’re both still alive and safe. Let it go.”

“You’re a fucking hypocrite,” Harry says, leaning close and spitting out the words. “How many other things have you stolen, Louis? How many times have you picked at me for being a pirate who steals? Well guess what Louis, you’re a thief, and a hypocrite, and a _pirate._ At least I fucking pay for what I can.”

Louis doesn’t say anything, incredibly aware of how close they are all of a sudden. Harry’s chest is rising and falling quickly, his lips parted as he glares at Louis. The intensity of his gaze heats Louis’ blood just as much as much as the irritation Louis’ feeling does. Louis leans closer subconsciously, their mouths a breath apart.

“I don’t…” Louis starts, his gaze flicking up to meet Harry’s. His eyes are dark and Louis thinks that under the anger, he can see something equally intense. “Why is this pissing you off so much? We’re _fine_.”

Someone coughs before Harry can reply, and Louis springs back like he’s been burnt. He whips his head around to see Niall standing above them, rocking back on his heels with laughter in his eyes. Louis feels like a child caught red-handed, his heartbeat slowing to a regular pace the longer he’s away from Harry.

“Good to see you’re both alive,” he says. “Dunno what happened back there but it’s a good thing you had everyone prepare for sail early, Cap.”

“Ask Louis what happened,” Harry huffs, standing abruptly and sparing Niall a quick pat on the shoulder before he’s stalking to the ladder leading below deck, presumably to his cabin. Louis watches him go, sighing. Sure, it was stupid what he did, but he feels Harry’s overreacting since they got away with it.

“Fancy telling me what you’ve done to piss Harry off this much?” Niall asks, sitting down next to Louis and leaning against the wooden railings. Louis settles next to him and lets his head fall back, a gust of wind making him shiver in his sodden clothes.

“I stole a ring,” Louis says, flashing his hand. “The vendor saw me and we got chased out of the market. Harry’s pissed because we would’ve been hung for piracy if we were caught, but we _weren’t_ so he’s clearly throwing a hissy fit for nothing.”

“So where does the hypocrisy fit in?” Niall persists. “Harry’s dramatic, sure, but when he’s mad he doesn’t just spout shit for the sake of it.”

Louis hesitates. Here, he _knows_ he was wrong. “When I first came aboard the ship, I made some pretty aggressive comments about Harry being a thieving, lying, murderous pirate. But to be fair, his reputation _does_ make him seem like that and most pirates are, y’know, thieving, lying and murderous.”

“True,” Niall allows. Louis knew he was a good one. “So you stepped in it and now you’ve gotta grovel until he accepts your apology, right?”

“I’m not gonna fucking grovel,” Louis says, folding his arms until he realises that makes him look like a petulant child. “I’ll apologise, just… later. If he’s allowed to sulk, so am I.”

“Fair enough,” Niall laughs. “Zayn was right, you’re both like overgrown children.”

“Oi.” Louis whacks Niall’s shoulder and he tumbles to the side, cackling at Louis’ assault.

“His words not mine,” Niall says between chuckles, righting himself and bumping his shoulder against Louis’. “But speaking of Zayn, I have a request. For you to make something for us.”

“Sure.” _This_ is a conversation Louis can handle. “What do you want me to make for you?”

“It’s… You’ve got to keep this a secret, alright,” Niall tells him quietly. “Like, tell _no one_ or I’ll throw you overboard.”

Louis stares at Niall, curiosity piqued. “Shit, Ni, what the hell do you want me to make?”

“An _olisbos,”_ Niall whispers, looking away. “Like, one with a harness attached to it that you can wear. I’ve got the materials and stuff already, I think, and if you need anything else I can get that for you at our next port.”

“An _olisbos_ you can wear.” Louis whistles. Maybe this _isn’t_ a conversation he can handle. “Is that for you and Zayn to… uh, use?”

“Yeah.” Niall’s cheeks may as well be on fire, they’re so red. “It’s just, we’ve wanted one for a while and they’re not easy to come by, and well, if you can make one I’d owe you big time.”

“Yeah, sure, I can try,” Louis assures him. All the materials Niall was carrying earlier make a lot more sense.

“Thanks, mate.” Niall scratches his forearm, finally risking a look at Louis. “That ring you stole, Harry would like it, you know.”

“That’s why I took it.” Louis thumbs the ring, the thick band and circular front engraved with a symbol Louis doesn’t recognise, but Harry would probably love. “I’m gonna go give it to him and see if we can patch things up. No point having the captain of the ship pissed at me.”

Louis waves goodbye and heads below deck, going straight for Harry’s cabin. He knocks twice, getting a muffled grunt in reply, and steps inside. Harry’s sprawled face-up on his bed, wearing nothing but underwear, and eyes trained on the low-lying ceiling. He doesn’t say anything when Louis steps inside, doesn’t even look at him, just keeps pouting and staring at the ceiling. Louis _doesn’t_ roll his eyes, but he comes close to it.

“You should have the ring,” he says, breaking the uneasy silence. “For all that came about because I stole it for you, you should at least have it.”

Louis walks close to the bed, and Harry still doesn’t look at him. Now, he does roll his eyes. He grabs Harry’s left hand and slides the ring on to his middle finger, turning it so the engraved emblem faces the top. Louis lets his fingers linger against Harry’s hand, feeling the smoothness of the back contrasting with the rough callouses on his palm and fingers, a result of working on a ship for over fifteen years.

“Thank you,” Harry says quietly, curling his hand around Louis’, the size difference between them startling. “I still think it was stupid and reckless that you stole it, but thank you anyway. It’s beautiful.”

“No problem,” Louis replies, staring their joined hands. Harry’s skin is so much paler than his own, whole chest visible for once. Louis sees all of Harry’s tattoos for the first time in full, and the craving to trace them with soft touches and gentle kisses gets overwhelming at times like this, when it’s just the two of them alone in private, when it’s _possible_. Louis wets his lips, desperate to break the tension. “Will you tell me more about the curse for my troubles?”

Harry laughs, letting his hand fall away. Louis’ fingers twitch, aching to pull it back into his hold. “Not a chance.”

“I tried,” Louis says, laughing as well. It’s hard not to laugh when Harry’s smile is so bright and contagious. “I’ll uh…” Louis trails off, unable to speak for a moment and cursing himself for it; he’s never been anything but quick on his feet, able to talk his way out of anything, so he doesn’t know why Harry’s affecting him like this. Well, he knows _exactly_ why Harry’s affecting him like this but knowing it and dealing with what it means for them, and for Louis’ role on this ship, are two different things. The latter is far scarier. “I’ll see you around? Like, later? Obviously I’ll see you around, _The Rose_ isn’t that big.”

Harry laughs again, and Louis’ helplessly endeared. “See you around, Lou,” he drawls, and Louis nods once, scarpering from the room.

***

“If you hold that long piece steady, I can hammer the nail in,” Louis instructs, his speech mumbled around the nails between his teeth. Liam does what he says for once, so Louis carefully lines up the hammer with the nail, bringing it down in even, practised strokes until the nail is securely fitted into the wood. The arm of the chair they’re building remains in place, and Louis nods for Liam to let the wood go.

“Almost finished now, right?” Liam asks, a lot more confident now after a month of working as Louis’ apprentice. He’s come a long way from a man who couldn’t tell different types of hammers apart, to being able to build his own furniture from scratch. “Just the other arm and then the resin coating.”

“Yep.” Louis’ already picking up the second, neatly carved strip of wood, and passing it to Liam to hold in place. Since making the _olisbos_ for Niall, something that really didn’t take Louis too long, he and Liam have been taking commissions from other members of the crew. It’s extra work and for little, if any, money, but Louis enjoys working with wood in a familiar, homely kind of way. “Maybe now Julian will stop complaining about having to stand all the time while he takes care of the weapons.”

“He’ll probably just find something else to complain about,” Liam answers with a laugh, not even wincing as Louis slams the hammer against the wood again. Louis snorts, Liam’s got a point, and lifts his arm to swing the hammer one final time. Just as he’s bringing it down, the room shudders and Louis’ thrown off balance, crashing into the floor and sending the box of nails next to him flying.

“What the fuck?” he groans, dropping the hammer and raising his arm to feel for blood on the back of his head where it whacked against the floor. There’s none, just a tender spot that makes Louis wince in pain, but at least he’s not gonna die.

“Feels like something collided into the ship,” Liam mutters. He knocked the chair over in his fall, but he’s already back on his feet, brushing sawdust from his trousers. Offering his hand to Louis, Liam helps him up and steadies him with two hands on his shoulders. “C’mon, we should see what’s happened.”

Louis nods, already feeling a little light-headed. The rocking of the ship is making him nauseous in a way it hasn’t for weeks, and yeah, maybe going up to the top deck and getting some fresh air will be good for Louis. At least if he does throw up, he can do it overboard.

Except there’s no fresh air on the top deck, not really. As soon as Liam and Louis climb up the ladder, their vision is mostly obscured by a thick fog – a kind Louis’ never seen before in his life. He can barely see a metre in front of him, only Liam’s silhouette next to his own and a golden blaze in the distance.

“What’s going on?” Louis demands when he’s stumbled his way over to a fire pit the crew have started on deck, near the main mast. Niall dumps another strip of wood into the fire and it spits sparks high in the air, illuminating them all in a soft glow. The warmth from the fire makes Louis aware of how cold the fog is.

“Harry spotted something in the water,” Zayn says, pointing up to the crow’s nest. Louis follows his direction, just able to catch the glint of Harry’s sword where it reflects the light of the fire. Without thinking, and still a little woozy, Louis heads straight for the rope ladder leading up to the crow’s nest, climbing up until he’s appearing next to Harry.

The fog’s clearer up here, but as Louis looks down, he sees that he can’t actually _see_ anything from above. It’s too thick and too close to the ship. In fact, the fog is really only clinging to the ship. The sea is clear, as clear as the cloudless sky, and that’s definitely not a good sign.

“Something’s wrong,” Harry murmurs, turning to Louis. “The fog shouldn’t be affecting just the ship.”

“What’s in the water?” Louis asks, trying to figure out the answer for himself. He can’t see through the surface, the sea is too dark and the moon is too bright, reflecting the image back at Louis. It’s worryingly calm as the ship idles like a sitting duck. Louis can’t suppress a nervous shiver.

“I don’t know,” Harry says, frowning. He’s soft under the moonlight, but there’s something hazy about him that Louis can’t understand. It’s like the edges of Harry’s face and hair have been blurred, and Louis can’t tell if his head was more injured than he first thought, or if Harry is actually _fuzzy_ right now. It wouldn’t be the strangest thing to happen. “I think it could be –”

Before Harry can finish his sentence, something leaps out of the water and vaults over the deck. An inhuman screech rings out, followed by a distinctly more human scream, and silences everyone on board. Louis just catches sight of a long, serpentine tail splashing against the water on the port side of the ship. He doesn’t know what kind of creature could make that jump, but the horrified look on Harry’s face makes Louis think he does.

“A Ketos,” Harry hisses, blinking slowly like he’s still processing what he’s just seen. “Ketea are sea monsters, like serpents, they—they haven’t been seen in decades, _fuck_.”

“What do we do?” Louis’ voice betrays how panicked he’s feeling, his heart pounding in his chest. There’s not a single ripple on the surface of the sea now, nothing that gives any indication to the location of the Ketos, or when it might strike next. They’re little more than helpless, and Louis’ faced with the entirely real possibility that he might die tonight.

“Fire,” Harry answers, hesitant. “I think fire frightens them, so maybe we can keep it at bay with that? Our pistols should do some damage too if we can catch it mid-air.”

“Stay here, then.” Louis raises trembling hands and gripping Harry’s shoulders. “You’re a better shot than I am, and if it leaps again, you shoot. I’ll go and tell Niall what’s happening, if he hasn’t already figured it out, and we’ll get the crew into position with burning torches.”

Harry nods, gripping Louis’ waist in return. “Come back up then,” he says lowly, barely above a whisper. “And be safe.”

“I will,” Louis promises, though they both know he can’t guarantee it. On impulse, because at any moment there could be a giant sea monster sinking their ship and eating them alive, and Louis might never get the chance again, he presses his lips to Harry’s for a fleeting kiss. It’s brief, full of unfulfilled promises and terror, but it’s the best Louis can offer Harry right now. When he pulls away, Harry makes a noise in the back of his throat.

Louis scrambles back down the ladder to the main deck before he can fully comprehend what he just did, almost slipping when his feet hit the wood. There’s sea water everywhere, enough to make the deck dangerously slippery. Louis makes his way to the crew still huddling around the fire, murmuring in shock as they look frantically around them for any indication of what the fuck just happened.

“It’s a Ketos,” Louis says instantly, catching all their attention. Zayn pales at Louis’ words, the name meaning more to him than it does to the rest of them. “We need fire. Make torches and stand on both sides of the deck, wave it and it should scare the beast away.”

“We need more than fire,” Zayn says gravely, as Jeff, Johnny and Julian all separate, searching for sticks of wood they can afford to burn as torches. “The ship has to get moving and we need to be on the offensive. A Ketos can destroy a ship in minutes if it wants too, we need to kill it first.”

Louis doesn’t think he’s been more terrified in his life, than when he listens to Zayn speak with such a stern expression, the fog surrounding and trapping them. “Harry’s in the crow’s eye with his gun, if it jumps again, he’ll shoot it. I’ll bring more guns up to him, and Niall, you’re a good shot, you should come too.”

Hastily made torches are passed around the crew and everyone gets into position. Before, Louis always viewed _The Rose_ as untouchable; impenetrable. It was a safe haven from rule of the Kings on land and the stagnation of island life. There wasn’t a lot that could happen to Louis when they were sailing between ports. Now, holding a piece of driftwood dipped in tallow and burning bright with fire, still woozy in the head with the memory of Harry’s lips ghosting his, he realises how fucking wrong he was.

Niall brings up more pistols from below deck and a rusty crossbow he hooks over his shoulder, somehow balancing all of that and his own torch. Louis takes one of the pistols from him, feeling the weight of the cold metal in his hands, and swallows heavily.

Out of nowhere, the serpent leaps again. One moment, Louis’ following Niall to the main mast, the next, there’s water dousing the ship’s deck and a long, snake-like body shooting through the sky. Louis catches sight of rows of sharp, jagged teeth gleaming in the moonlight and a wicked yellow eye before a shot goes off and the creature is diving back in the water on the starboard side this time. Its tail crashes into the railings there, smashing them to pieces, and wraps around Julian.

Someone yells for him to be grabbed, but Julian’s disappearing overboard before anyone can stop it. _The Rose_ rocks until the sea calms, the surface returning to the reflective mirror it was before the second leap, and everyone stares in horror as they could be next.

Niall moves first, nudging Louis’ shoulder and motioning for Louis to head to the crow’s nest. “I’ll take Julian’s position,” is all he says, and Louis nods his understanding. He tucks the pistol into his trousers and slings the crossbow over his shoulder so he can climb the ladder without dropping the rope, the trip already made difficult from the icy sea water pricking his skin and making everything harder to grasp.

“Julian…” Louis starts when he’s back next to Harry, but Harry cuts him off with a grunt. It’s only then that Louis notices he’s clutching his right arm, blood spilling through the sleeve of his white shirt, staining it deep crimson. “Harry, what happened?”

“No time to explain,” Harry says through gritted teeth, letting go of his arm and grabbing the pistol from Louis’ trousers with a blood-soaked hand. He winces as he raises both arms, holding two guns as steady as he can manage. There’s no target yet, but based on the last two appearances, it’ll be minutes at the most. Louis can see the rest of the crew waving their torches and clinging to their pistols, trying to spot the Ketos and scare it off at the same time; they seem insignificant from this high up. If they survive tonight, it’ll be the work of a miracle. “Set up the crossbow, scrape some tallow on to the arrow and light it. Direct fire will do more damage.”

For once, Louis does what Harry says without directly questioning him. He’s never fired a crossbow before, doesn’t even know why Niall picked this weapon from all of them down in the weaponry, but he locks the arrow into place, drawing the thin wire back, and sets the tip alight. Louis holds it as steady as he can manage and waits.

When the Ketos erupts out of the sea, it’s not from either of the ship’s sides, but the bow. It arches through the air, higher than it ever leapt before, and careens directly towards the crow’s nest. Louis doesn’t know how he manages to pull the trigger on the crossbow but he does, with his heart hammering in his chest and cold sweat trickling down the back of his neck and the terrifying image of sunken yellow eyes and bloodstained, shark-like teeth burned on to the backs of his eyelids.

Harry fires his pistols at the same time, moving too quickly for Louis to watch. All he can hear is the whiz of air parting, the splash of sea water hitting the deck, and the ungodly screech of the Ketos as Louis’ arrow sinks straight into its neck. The noise is so loud Louis thinks the force of it rocks the ship, but then the beast is flying over them, narrowly grazing the top of the main mast.

Harry hisses in pain, dropping the pistols to the floor and holding Louis steady as he wobbles on his feet. Louis whips his head around to see the Ketos re-enter the water, not as smoothly this time. A wave big enough to jerk _The Rose_ forward swells up from the beast where it swims away from the ship, fins breaching the surface. Louis watches it until he can’t see it anymore, still wary that it’ll return at any second.

“It’s gone,” Harry says, following Louis’ gaze. “Your arrow struck its neck, my bullets hit the eyes. It won’t attack the ship again tonight. Who knows where the crew hit it.”

“How can you be sure?” Louis asks, breathing ragged. His torch is the only source of light in the crow’s nest right now, propped in the holder on the mast.

“It didn’t go straight under,” Harry answers, raking his hand through his hair and wincing when all it does is coat it with blood. “Ketea always swim deep below the surface, especially when attacking. The fact that it swam _away_ at surface level… we’re safe. The fog too. Look, it’s disappearing.”

Louis looks around and sees that Harry’s right. The thick fog that clung to the ship and obscured their view moments beforehand is now dissipating, watery moonlight illuminating the deck. The puddles of water reflect the light, and Louis sees the full extent of the damage the Ketos caused. “Did the Ketos cause the fog?”

“I think so,” Harry says, blinking a few times in quick succession, almost like he’s shaking himself out of a daze. Louis remembers the way Harry had clung to his arm and mentally slaps himself for not catching it earlier.

“Your arm, what happened to it?” Louis asks, staring at the dark blood patches on Harry’s sleeve. Even in the dark of the night, he can see it seeping through. “You have to get it treated.”

“It’s fine,” Harry dismisses, waving his arm and failing to hide the wince of pain that follows. “I need to speak with my crew.”

“Hey!” Louis shouts, but Harry’s hurrying down the rope ladder and striding towards Niall, not acknowledging Louis in the slightest. Shivering from the cold and from the fading exhilaration, Louis follows him down.

“…we couldn’t save him,” Liam is saying as Louis catches the tail-end of his sentence. _Julian_ , his mind instantly supplies. It hadn’t hit him properly until he saw the solemn look on everyone’s faces as they processed it themselves. They’re a small crew on _The Rose_ anyway, and now they’re one man down, Julian no less. It shatters the fragile remnants of Louis’ past ideas that _The Rose_ was an untouchable safe haven. Julian is dead now, killed by the Ketos, and _fuck_ , Louis doesn’t know how to deal with that.

“We’ll hold a wake for him tomorrow,” Harry decides, raising his voice so everyone can hear. “Remember Julian how he’d like to be remembered. For now, everyone rest. I’ll sail the ship tonight; you all deserve a good night’s sleep.”

None of the crew protest like Louis expect them to, all too weary and exhausted. The episode couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes, but it feels like a lifetime ago Louis was working on Julian’s chair with Liam in the weaponry. He stays on deck while the rest of the crew go below, and Harry slowly walks to the steering wheel, checking their course on his compass and the map Alex drew for him.

“What about your arm?” Louis asks as he approaches Harry, surprised to see that Harry startles at the sound of his voice. “How did you hurt it?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry snaps, pocketing his compass and turning the wheel to alter the ship’s course. “Go to bed, Louis.”

“No,” Louis says defiantly. “No, not until you tell me how you hurt yourself and let me make sure it’s been properly treated. I’m no medic, but I can dress a simple wound. Show me your arm.”

Harry huffs, but he does so anyway. His shirt is tossed to the side when he strips it off, and Louis can’t even focus on the softness of Harry’s chest in the moonlight when his arm looks like it’s been mauled by a wild dog. “It’s not a big deal,” Harry says, the fucking liar.

“Shit,” Louis breathes, stepping closer and grabbing Harry’s right wrist, gently pulling his arm towards him for a closer inspection. The skin is slashed, clean criss-crossing lines over his biceps, all the way to his elbow. The cuts are deep, still bleeding profusely. “Stay here,” Louis instructs, heading straight for the chest of poultices in the storage cabin. He picks out something marked to protect against infection and a roll of crisp, clean cloth to use as a bandage. He makes a note to have Harry visit an actual medic whenever the next chance arises. As an afterthought, he picks up one of Harry’s coats from his cabin and brings it up with him.

Harry’s still on the top deck when Louis comes back, wordlessly letting him clean and dress the wound. Louis works quickly, making sure he ties the bandages tightly, but not tight enough to cut off Harry’s flow of blood. When he’s finished, he picks up the coat from the wooden floor and hands it to Harry, helping him get it on properly.

“That should keep you ‘til the next port,” Louis says quietly. “Now tell me what happened, because I saw the Ketos’ tail smash the railings, but it never came close to you. I don’t know what would have _done_ that, and you can’t lie to me about this, Harry. _Tell me_.”

Harry sighs, resigned. “ _The Rose_ isn’t cursed, not technically. I am.”

Louis stares at Harry, unsure what he was expecting Harry to say, but it really wasn’t _that_. Harry lied to him before, when he told Louis it was his ship that was cursed, and that stings, but Louis just… How can Harry be cursed? What could he have done to warrant a _curse_? “How?” Louis asks, desperate for more information, for Harry to tell him the truth this time. “Why would you lie? What’s the curse?”

“It was my dad,” Harry says, looking away from Louis and up to the stars, glittering in the night. His curls frame his face, wistful as he speaks. “He was a proper pirate, you know? Thieved and pillaged and terrified civilians with just the name, Captain Styles. He was kind to me, of course he was, but I guess at the time I didn’t realise that was all part of the persona, yeah? This charming pirate captain who could turn like the flick of a knife.”

Harry breaks off, closing his eyes. Without thinking, Louis takes his hand, squeezing encouragingly and whispering, “Go on,” just loud enough to be heard.

“And um, he… I don’t know exactly how it happened, he never told me, but my dad—he pissed off a witch big time. Angering a witch isn’t exactly a good idea in general, but this witch… her name was Helena and she was a descendent of Hecate, so she was unbelievably powerful. Dad used to visit her a couple of times a year where she used to live, in Athens, and he’d always go alone for days at a time so I’d wonder if they were involved. It was the last time when he brought me. I don’t know what about my presence provoked her, but she started screaming at my dad and the next thing I know, she was cursing him. Told him if he loved his ship so much, he’d be forever forced to rely on it for his life. I was only sixteen at the time, I didn’t understand the full extent of what she meant until my dad explained it to me later that night.”

“What did she mean?” Louis asks, desperate for more knowledge.

“My dad’s soul was, from that moment, tied to _The Rose_. If the ship was damaged, then he’d be hurt, and if the ship was destroyed or sunk, he’d die. Living the life that he did, I think Helena thought it wouldn’t be long before _The Rose_ was ruined, but Dad didn’t die for years, and even then it wasn’t because of the ship. It was another pirate. I thought that’d be the end of it, but like I said, Helena was powerful, so the curse transferred on to me through the bloodline.”

“You mean it’s not even your fault? That’s fucking bullshit! You didn’t do anything to deserve this, where’s the justice?” Louis squeezes Harry’s hand again, this time in sympathy. It’s hardly fair, what’s happened, and now Harry has to go to such lengths to break the curse just so his life doesn’t depend on the survival of a ship that could be destroyed any day.

Harry shrugs, finally looking at Louis. “I didn’t want to tell you before because I don’t… I’m not proud of it, or any of what my dad did,” he says. “The reputation comes in handy sometimes; pirates are less likely to attack our ship when they see it’s _The Rose_ , still captained by a Styles, but I’m not proud of who my family is and I don’t want people to think I’m like my dad.”

“You’re not,” Louis says, believing it completely. He’s never met Harry’s father, doesn’t know anything but the stories passed around by word of mouth, but he’s certain of this. “You’re a better man than he could ever have hoped to be, Harry, and you don’t deserve this curse.”

“You didn’t know him,” Harry dismisses. “He wasn’t… I don’t know how to describe him, but he wasn’t this evil man who didn’t have a kind bone in his body. He was… he was unpredictable and dangerous and _exciting_. I know I’m not like him with what I do _now_ but maybe this curse was forced on to me for a reason.” Harry breaks off, sighing. “I just… I just want to be free.”

“I’ll help you get there,” Louis promises, letting go of Harry’s hand and snaking his arms around his waist, pulling him in for a hug. Harry’s body is warm against Louis’, despite the cold of the night, and it’s a comforting weight surrounding him. His shoulders envelope Louis’ as he wraps his arms around him as well, and Louis thinks this is the closest he’s come to feeling at home since he left his village all those weeks ago.

A thought strikes Louis as they stand together like that, entwined in each other and listening to the steady breaths, the fluttering heartbeats. Joining the crew, Louis was convinced Harry had an ulterior motive, and while he knows now that it wasn’t a sinister one, he thinks he was right. “You were adamant that I work for you when you found out I was a carpenter,” Louis mutters, smelling the sea-salt scent of Harry’s skin. “I couldn’t figure out why you wanted me to stay so badly, but now I get it. I’ve been keeping you alive, haven’t I?”

Harry laughs softly, warm breath tickling Louis’ ear. “Well, put it like that and it sounds like _The Rose_ was falling apart when you snuck on board,” he replies. “But yeah, you’ve been making things a lot easier. I haven’t had a back problem since you and Liam fixed the rigging, and I’m sure my arm will heal a lot faster once the railings have been repaired.”

“And the night with the St. Elmo’s fire,” Louis muses, “I _knew_ there was something off about the way your skin got so hot. The ship’s fire affected you too. Fuck, it’s been staring me in the face all this time.”

“You’re not the most observant,” Harry jokes, and Louis huffs in response. “Good thing you’re cute.”

“You’re not too bad yourself,” Louis says, grinning and pulling back just enough to actually look at Harry, their faces barely an inch apart. “The pirate look works for you.”

Harry’s lips twist into a smirk, his gaze dropping to Louis’ mouth. Louis throws caution to the wind and angles his head up, catching Harry’s lips in a kiss. It’s slower than their only other kiss was, less fuelled with ‘this might be our only chance’ and more of an exploration of each other. Louis kisses Harry again, moving their lips together until he feels Harry’s tongue lick across the seam of his mouth and then he’s lost in the heat of Harry kissing him. It started off slow, but it quickly descends into something more desperate. Since the moment Louis laid eyes on Harry, he’s been attracted to him, despite his reservations, and now, over a month later, he’s finally getting close to some relief.

Louis kisses Harry fervently, slipping his hands under Harry’s coat to scratch down his spine, and it’s not relief he’s getting now. It’s a building heat with every touch of lips and tongue, warm breath mingling and soft noises coming from the back of their throats. It’s like a fire burning in Louis’ chest when Harry’s lips drift along his cheek, down his rough jaw where his teeth scrape along his jawline. It’s too much and not enough at once, and Louis doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to give this up now that he’s had it.

“Harry,” he gasps, bringing a hand up to tangle in Harry’s curls, pulling on his hair so Harry’s lips leave Louis’ neck, travelling back to his mouth so they can kiss again. He bites Harry’s lower lip, rolling it between his teeth until he’s red and swollen.

“You’re beautiful,” Harry murmurs, eyes shining, even in the dark. “We’re doing this, right? I’m not like, misunderstanding here? You want to be with me?”

Louis feels himself smile: at the contrast between Harry’s confident kisses and the nervous undertone of his voice, and the phantom touch of Harry’s lips on his own, at the simple joy of Harry’s arms around him. “Yeah, I want that. Wouldn’t have kissed you otherwise, H.”

“Good,” Harry says breathlessly, ducking his head to kiss Louis again. Louis lets him, eyes fluttering shut as he kisses Harry back. “That’s good.”

***

([xxx](http://louehvolution.tumblr.com/post/141982576746))

***

The next few days on _The Rose_ are surreal for Louis. The crew says goodbye to Julian the morning after, with everyone saying a few words next to the shattered remains of the railing. Niall finishes off the ceremony by splashing some of Julian’s favourite rum overboard, along with a drachma for the ferryman. No one mentions the tears clouding everyone’s eyes.

Louis and Liam repair the railings damaged by the Ketos, and Louis marvels at the speed Harry’s arm heals. That’s not something Louis’ used to, but he’s been marvelling at Harry a lot, since their kiss after the attack. Louis will sit with Harry and hold the compass steady while Harry steers the ship on the open waters and they’ll talk for hours, just like they did before, but now there’s something different about it, something better. The way Harry smiles bashfully when Louis teases him about his fancy clothes or the tattoos littering his arm, and the way Harry will give back just as good as he gets. Even the way Harry’s lips turn a deep red when they’ve been kissing late at night, or first thing in the morning, or even mid-day when either of them can sneak a kiss against the wall of the storage cabin or outside the dining room. Harry’s cheeks always turn the loveliest shade of red when he pulls back, usually half-hard and obviously so with his tight trousers. Louis’ not seen Harry fully naked yet, but from the feel of him against Louis’ thigh, he suspects it’s something to look forward to.

By the time the ship docks at Kassos, Louis’ not sure he’s ready for the bubble to be burst, but if his time on _The Rose_ has taught him anything, it’s that nothing is as permanent as he first thinks. Louis sits up in the crow’s nest with Liam and Niall, watching the island come into view.

“Not as rocky as the last few places have been,” Louis comments. The island doesn’t have the cliffs of Kythria, in fact it looks mostly flat, thick forests starting right as the beach ends.

“Where are we even going?” Liam asks, his knife cutting through the soft wood he’s using to whittle something. Louis can’t tell what it is yet, and he probably still won’t be able to work out what Liam made when he’s finished. Liam’s good at a lot of things, but Louis wouldn’t class whittling as one.

“Dunno the name of the city,” Niall answers, picking at thread from an old shirt he bought at the last port. “We’re not going to the main part of the island, I don’t think. Harry wants us to stock up and stuff, but I dunno, this town is a lot smaller than the one on the other side.”

Liam looks up from his block of wood, frowning in confusion. “Is it much longer sailing to that port?”

“Nah, less than a day.” Niall shrugs. “Harry must know what he’s doing, at least.”

“Does Harry ever _really_ know what he’s doing?” Louis adds, trying to subtly change the conversation topic. The reason they’re not going to the main port is because it’s further away from the path through the forest that Alex marked for them to take to the lake where the fountain resides. Louis’ trusting Harry on this one, the map looked completely illegible to him.

Niall inclines his head, muttering, “Fair,” and pulling the last of the thread from the hem of the shirt. He tucks it back into his sewing bag and climbs down the rope ladder on to the main deck, Louis and Liam following straight after. Louis heads straight over to where Harry’s waiting by the anchor, leaning on the wheel and trying to keep the wind from blowing his hair in his face.

“Smooth,” Louis remarks when Harry almost chokes on a stray lock. Louis tucks it behind his ear, fitting himself against Harry’s side and knocking their shoulders together. “You got everything we need?”

Harry hums the confirmation, angling his head and smiling at Louis, eyes squinty because of the bright sun. He kicks a leather bag with his foot, nudging it towards Louis. “The map, provisions, a dagger, and a couple of empty vials, plus the regular kit. Should be enough to get us to the fountain and back, with the water and the mermaid blood.”

Louis peers up at Harry. “Right. You’re actually gonna get that, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” Harry says, like it’s ridiculous for Louis to suggest otherwise. “I gave him my word, swore an oath and all that. It’d be wrong of me not to. Besides, one small vial shouldn’t be too hard to get. We don’t need to hurt anyone, just… ask nicely.”

“Ask nicely?” Louis scoffs. “Does that ever work?”

“Maybe,” Harry says. “If we’re lucky. We’ll figure it out when we’re there, yeah?”

Louis shrugs, “If you’re sure.”

The ship docks smoothly and then they’re off. Louis walks with Harry into the thick forest instead of down the shoreline with the rest of the crew. Just like how it looked from the crow’s nest, the forest springs out of the ground all at once; one minute they’re sweltering under the morning sun, the next, they’re choking on the humidity between tall trees and overwhelmingly green vegetation.

“It’s darker here,” Louis comments, listening to the crunch of pebbles turn into the squish of soft mud and crack of fallen twigs. Harry checks the map and Louis looks up to the tops of the trees, branches interlocking and creating a thick canopy, only the faintest streaks of sunlight filtering through the leaves. “Like another world.”

Harry looks up from the map and takes in their surroundings, making a noise in the back of his throat. “You wonder if we’re still on the same island.” He looks at the map again, and Louis digs the compass from Harry’s pocket, holding it flat and waiting for it to point North. “It’s this way.”

Louis stays in charge of the compass as they walk further into the forest, heading West according to Harry’s map. That should take them to a stream, that they follow against the current to the source of water, a lake in the centre of the island.

“Still going West,” Louis says, updating Harry half an hour into walking. Louis runs his thumb over the tarnished metal casing of the compass, feeling the scratches and smoother sections that have been worn down from Harry’s touch.

“That was the first thing I bought after I joined _The Rose_ , you know,” Harry says, tucking the map away and gesturing to the compass. “When the ship would board other pirate ships or merchant vessels and take what they could, my dad would always give me a few coins for looking out. I saved them up and bought that compass at a marketplace. Dreamed of using it to explore new waters and travel the world. Now look at me.”

“We can still do that,” Louis says, holding the compass a lot more carefully now that he knows how much it means to Harry. “Once we’ve broken the curse, you’ll be free to go wherever you want to go, do whatever you want to do.”

Harry smiles softly. “We?”

“Oh.” Louis hadn’t even noticed the slip up, but now that it’s out there’s no point denying it. “Well, _The Rose_ could still use a carpenter, even when a split railing doesn’t mean a broken arm for you. And I guess you could say I’m attached.”

“Attached, hmm?” Harry’s grin widens. “To _The Rose_?”

“Yeah, to _The Rose_ and its ridiculous captain.” Louis ducks his head but Harry pulls them to a stop and grabs hold of Louis’ wrist, using his free hand to tilt Louis’ chin up and kiss him softly.

“I’m pretty attached too,” he whispers against Louis’ lips, kissing him again. Louis smiles into it for all of a few seconds before returning the kisses with fervour, tasting the faintest traces of banana on Harry’s tongue.

He’s not sure how long they’ve been kissing – probably too long given they have to navigate their way to the stream and back before it gets too dark to do so – when Louis hears the faint trickling of water.

“Is that--?” he trails off, trying not to get distracted by the shine of Harry’s lips. “I think I hear the stream.”

“That’s a good sign,” Harry says, and they’re walking again, the stream coming into sight.

From there, they walk for another hour, stopping to eat and rest their legs mid-way through. Harry passes the canteen of water to Louis, and they refill it with water from the stream. When the stream starts to widen into the mouth of a river, the ground gets boggier, the air turns thicker, and mist rises up from the water.

“Well, this is ominous,” Louis remarks, walking a little closer to Harry until they come to a standstill at the edge of the massive lake. The water is dark and murky around the muddy bank, and Louis can’t tell how deep it gets. In the centre of the lake, there’s a small island, covered in grass and flowers that seems to glow silver. There sits a moss-covered statue of Dionysus, youthful and naked bar the stone cut to look like fabric wrapping around his waist. One arm extends towards the sky, holding a large goblet that’s tipped on its side, water flows from the stone and arcs back into the lake.

“The fountain used to be in the centre of a pavilion,” Harry says, barely louder than a whisper. He’s staring at the statue with wide eyes and parted lips, awe evident in his features. “This island was affected by earthquakes and flooding, and now no one comes here. It’s a miracle the fountain still works.”

“Lucky for us then.” Louis kicks a stray rock into the lake, watching the ripples spread across the surface. “How’re we getting to the fountain? Because if there are actually mermaids in this lake, I really don’t fancy swimming in it.”

“There’s got to be another way across.” Harry runs his hand through his hair as he thinks, looking around the lake. “Is that a boat over there?”

Louis follows the direction he’s pointing in, catching sight of a small wooden boat with oars resting on the benches. It’s wedged in the bank of the lake, and from this distance, looks sailable. “That’s too easy,” Louis says, frowning. “I don’t trust that boat.”

“It could be our only option,” Harry points out. The boat’s a short walk away and when they reach it, Louis checks it immediately for any potential damage or leakage points. It’s in good condition, but that makes Louis all the more sceptical.

“You said people rarely come here.” Louis picks up one of the short oars and checks for splits. “Why would there be a boat in perfectly good condition, _conveniently_ here for people to use?”

“Well, it’s not like this place is completely unknown,” Harry says, huffing. “Especially to the people of this island. Don’t forget that mermaids are worth a lot of money if they’re caught, as awful as it is, so the boat could be here for hunters.”

Louis stares at Harry for a long moment. “Right, because that makes using this boat completely okay. Who cares if a group of mermaids could see us in the boat and get the wrong idea, it’s _convenient_!”

“Do you have a better solution?” Harry asks. “I’ll go alone if I have to, Lou.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Like fuck am I gonna let you go alone,” he says. “And no, I don’t have a better idea, but I don’t like it.”

“Just get in the boat.” Harry ducks to kiss Louis’ cheek and waits for him to get into the boat. Louis fits himself on the front of the two benches so he won’t have to row. He takes the leather bag off Harry, resting it between his legs, and keeps his eyes on the water as Harry pushes the boat in.

“If the mermaids don’t appear, how are we gonna get the blood?” Louis asks as Harry rows. Out in the lake, the water is clearer, but Louis still can’t tell how deep it is or if there are even mermaids in this lake. He spots the occasional fish swim past, but nothing that could be a mermaid.

“We’ll improvise,” Harry offers. Louis keeps looking, waving his hand about to get rid of the mist rising from the water. He tries not to move too much otherwise, and keeps his voice low. There’s something unsettling about the atmosphere here, and Louis keeps expecting something to jump out of the water at any minute.

They fall quiet, and the eerie splash of water rippling as Harry rows is all that’s left. That, and the whisper of the wind as it ghosts over Louis’ skin. The closer they get to the fountain, the more Louis wants to row back to shore and run to the ship.

“Stay here,” Harry murmurs when they’ve reached the small island. He rifles through the leather bag until he finds an empty flask, and steps out of the boat to fill it up. Louis turns around to look back out to the lake, when a splash catches the corner of his eye. He whips his head in the direction but just the ripple of water is all he can see, right in the middle of the lake.

“Harry,” Louis says cautiously, keeping his eyes trained on the lake. “I think they’ve spotted us.”

“The mermaids?” Harry asks. He tightens the cap back on to the flask, mutters a prayer for Dionysus, and climbs back into the boat. “We’re not doing anything wrong, Lou, relax.”

“Relax, he says,” Louis snorts. Harry pushes away from the island with the oar, letting them drift further into the water. “Like we’re not sitting ducks while we’re in this boat.”

Harry’s about to reply when the boat lurches backwards and a – a _thing_ clings to the edging behind Harry. It’s dripping with water, sickly pale blue skin stretching over long arms and patches of luminescent scales scattered over the thing’s body. The face is the most horrifying, though. Louis stares into bloodshot eyes that are all pupil, no coloured ring surrounding them, and listens to heavy breathing through a mouth full of jagged, yellow teeth.

“Is it…?” Harry trails off, and Louis nods. The thing clinging to their boat must be a mermaid, and Louis is about to piss himself. It’s nothing like he thought it would be – not a beautiful woman with a sweet voice, but a grotesque creature that looks like it hasn’t seen sunlight in all its life.

Louis’ fingers twitch as he slowly reaches for the leather bag, thinking of the pistol sitting at the bottom. He didn’t intend to kill anything while he’s here, but that mermaid doesn’t look friendly, and Louis won’t risk Harry’s life. Not for a small vial of blood.

He’s closing his fingers around the straps when Harry mouths something to him. Louis doesn’t catch it, and in the next instant, the mermaid is wrapping its spindly arms around Harry and dragging him off the boat, beneath the surface of the water.

“Harry!” Louis screams, leaping to his feet and almost falling over again with the force of the boat rocking. He steadies himself and scrambles to the back of the bow, staring over the ledge, into the water to try and find Harry. He thinks he can spot the bright red of Harry’s coat a little ways down, and Louis doesn’t think, just dives off the boat and into the lake.

Louis’ never been the strongest swimmer, despite living on an island all his life, but he pushes himself further underwater, following the trail of Harry’s coat. The mermaid pauses when it notices Louis swimming after them, it’s grip on Harry’s chest tightening, tail moving in time with the current. Louis ignores the growing burn in his chest and the weight of the water crushing his body, stretching his arm out towards Harry. He can’t be more than a few metres away now, kicking and fighting against the mermaid’s hold.

The mermaid bites Harry’s shoulder just as Louis comes close to them, conscious of the lack of air burning in his veins. He’s got less than a minute before he’ll need to breathe again, and fuck, Harry’s falling limp and Louis doesn’t have the time or energy to fight off a fucking mermaid but Harry can’t _die_.

Louis reaches for the dagger strapped to Harry’s belt and yanks it free, his limbs moving so slowly in the water. The mermaid cocks its head at him and Louis plunges the knife into its arm, where it’s wrapped around Harry’s waist. Harry’s free in an instant, and Louis just manages to catch him before he sinks even further down into the lake. Gripping Harry’s lapels, Louis kicks his legs with as much strength as he can muster, heading for the surface.

The first breath of air once Louis breaks the surface is followed by spluttering and wheezing, and making sure Harry’s head is above the water too. Louis can’t see the mermaid around them, just a trail of dark red liquid tainting the clear water of the lake – its blood, probably – but Harry is the priority right now. He needs to get them both back to the shore of the lake and make sure Harry is breathing.

“Harry, if you can hear me,” Louis grunts out, swimming with one hand towards the boat, shifting the other to Harry’s waist. “It’d be really good of you to wake up. Please, love, c’mon.”

When he reaches the boat, he doesn’t bother trying to lift Harry on to it. He doesn’t have the strength or the time. It’s hard enough keeping hold of Harry while he reaches in and fumbles for the bag with all their supplies. The flask is sealed tight so it doesn’t matter if that gets wet, and everything else is replaceable.

Carrying Harry and the bag to the shore of the lake seems like it takes an age, and Louis doesn’t know exactly how long it _does_ take but by the time he manages to stand on the mud and rest Harry on his back, he’s still not awake and Louis is just as terrified _now_ as he was standing before the Ketos.

“Harry, please, c’mon,” Louis begs, voice hoarse from swallowing so much lake water. The cool, misty air is making him shiver in his drenched clothes and his hair is falling in his eyes but he ignores it all, rolling Harry on to his side and slapping his back, as if he can force the water out that way.

He doesn’t know if it actually works, or if Harry was just going to wake up then anyway, but he’s suddenly coughing up more water than Louis thought was possible and groaning weakly.

“Oh thank the heavens,” Louis breathes, collapsing next to Harry. He’s fucking exhausted, his whole body weary with exertion, and if it weren’t for the fact that Harry nearly drowned, he’d demand to be carried back to _The Rose_.

“Lou,” Harry croaks, lying on his back next to Louis. Their clothes are absolutely wrecked; they’ll have a whale of a time trying to explain this to Niall. “What happened?”

“The mermaid attacked us,” Louis says, angling his head to look at Harry. There’s a little life coming back to his cheeks, all while droplets of water run down his face. “Dragged you under the water so I jumped in to get you. It like, bit your shoulder and knocked you out or something, but I managed to scare it off.”

Summarising the whole chain events in just a sentence like that doesn’t sit well with Louis, but how can he explain the icy fear that was as likely to drown him as the mermaid, when he watched Harry be pulled over the edge of the boat. How the fuck is he meant to explain why the mermaid just… swam away? It could have killed them both, but it didn’t, and Louis doesn’t want to spend time questioning that.

“Fuck,” Harry groans, bringing his hands up to his face. “Thank you, Louis. Fuck, I’d have died without you. _Thank you_ , but fuck, how are we gonna get the vial of blood?”

Louis sits up sharply. “We’re not. Harry, we’re not going back in that lake. I don’t care what healing properties mermaid blood has or what you promised Alexander, it’s not worth your life. You almost drowned and we got so incredibly lucky, like fuck are we risking all that again.”

“It’s bad to break an oath, Louis,” Harry says lowly. Louis knows that, but he stands by his point. He will not let Harry go back in that lake.

“We can try in a marketplace sometime, once the curse is broken,” Louis offers. “But right now, we’ve got what we need, so we can go back to the ship. _Please_.”

Harry looks up at Louis with a quiet intensity for a long moment, before nodding. “Of course. We need to get out of these clothes, no point catching our death here.”

Louis’ inclined to agree.

***

By the time Harry and Louis are back on _The Rose_ and it’s sailing West, Louis’ too tired to do anything but follow Harry to his cabin and crawl into bed with him. They’ve slept together sporadically, usually after a late night drinking and kissing under the covers, but this feels more domestic. Harry lets Louis curl around him, their bodies aligned like puzzle pieces, bare skin to bare skin where they’ve stripped off most of their clothes. Louis never feels safer than when he has Harry in his arms.

He drifts uneasily in and out of sleep, his dreams plagued with a pressure against his throat, like he can’t get enough air and he’s sinking deeper and deeper under water, lungs burning and limbs flailing, trying to swim to the surface but he can’t, he just can’t, and something flashes at the edges of his vision, cold, dead eyes and inhuman limbs tangled around Harry’s dead body and Louis lunges for him, or tries to but he can’t move, can’t do anything but remain frozen in place while Harry is dragged further into the abyss and – _he’s awake_.

“Louis,” Harry whispers, stroking the sweat-damp hair off Louis’ forehead. Louis opens his eyes blearily, looking up at the concern etched on to Harry’s face. “You sounded like you were choking, love. What is it?”

“Nightmares,” Louis answers, wincing at the hoarseness of his voice. He brings his hand up to cradle Harry’s jaw, his thumb rubbing over the bags under his eyes. The few candles Harry lit when they entered are still burning, and Harry’s beautifully soft under their warm light. “Makes it difficult to get decent sleep.”

Harry turns his face into Louis’ palm, kissing the centre. “Every time I close my eyes, I see the Ketos leaping towards me, or feel the mermaid bite my shoulder. I don’t… I can’t stop thinking about them.”

“D’you wanna talk about them?” Louis asks. He’s not sure if he wants to discuss his own nightmares, the paralysing fear of losing Harry, of being too weak, too slow to be able to save him. But he’ll try for Harry, if that’s what he needs.

“No,” Harry says quietly. “Not right now, at least. Let’s talk about something else.”

Louis nods, bringing Harry’s head down for a quick kiss. He pushes him on to his back and settles his head on Harry’s chest, tracing his thumb over the ship tattoo on his left arm. “Is this _The Rose_?”

“Yeah, I got it just after my father died, and I realised I was cursed too,” Harry answers, flexing the muscle so the ship shifts as his skin does. Louis can’t help the fond smile stretching across his lips.

“Seems a bit strange to get something that’s such a burden tattooed on you permanently,” Louis muses. It’s a beautiful drawing, Louis’ certain of that, but if he found out that his existence rested on something as easily destroyed as a ship, he wouldn’t be jumping to get it inked onto his skin.

“It’s not that much of a burden,” Harry says, continuing on before Louis can point out the obvious. “I mean, sure, I don’t want to be cursed and I hate that I am, but _The Rose_ is my home. When I’m free, I’ll be able to go anywhere with it, see anything I like. Anything _we_ like. I wanted to remember the beauty of it, I guess, to remind myself that it’s not the end of the world, you know?”

“I guess.” Louis trails his fingers down Harry’s arm to the anchor on the back of his wrist. “Why isn’t there a rope, here? An anchor’s a bit useless without something attaching it to the ship.”

“I don’t know,” Harry says, shrugging. “I just… didn’t want the artist to add the rope yet. Maybe there’s some inner reason for it, but I think I’m waiting for the right time.”

Louis hesitates, stroking the clear lines of the tattoo with his thumb. “Don’t get it,” he says. “The rope, don’t get it added to the anchor.”

Harry lifts his brows. “Why not? It’s a bit pointless without it, like you said.”

“I’ll get the rope,” Louis tells him, risking a glance up at Harry. The slack-jawed expression on his face is satisfying, but Louis wants a reaction that’s more enthused than that. “On my left wrist, yeah? Rope that threads through your anchor.”

“Are you sure?” Harry finally manages to choke out. “Lou, that’s… fuck, Louis, that’s permanent.”

“I know,” Louis says, smiling cautiously. “But it feels right, doesn’t it? I think I’d like to be linked to you permanently. Maybe I’ll even get something to match with the ship too.”

“A compass,” Harry breathes, a delighted grin stretching across his face, lighting up his eyes. “Since that guides the ship, and you… you make me feel like I’ve got direction, like I’ve got something to strive for.”

“Harry,” Louis says on an exhale, shuffling up the bed and kissing him fiercely. He shifts so he’s on top of Harry properly, hands intertwining with Harry’s as their lips move together and Louis feels the trickle of heat through his body. That’s how Harry kisses, he thinks, like he’s spreading warmth through Louis one peck at a time, lighting a fire in his belly that only grows bigger the more they’re together. “ _Harry_.”

“Lou, oh gods, Lou,” Harry chants, murmuring the mantra against Louis lips and cheek, kissing down the side of his neck and rolling them over so Louis’ trapped under his bodyweight. “Fuck, you’ve no idea what you do to me.”

“I can guess,” Louis says with a wink, tilting up his chin for another kiss. Harry gives in to him easily, barely noticing when one of Louis’ hands slips from his grip and snakes between them. He definitely notices when Louis palms the hardening length of his cock through his underwear, given the low groan it elicits.

“Do you… are you…” Harry trails off, groaning again when Louis’ hand slips under his shirt and slides up his chest, heading straight for a nipple. He twists it and Harry exhales sharply, pressing his hips against Louis’ so he can feel the hardness of his cock. Heat flares in Louis’ chest as he arches up, scratching Harry’s back with his other hand, dragging it up his spine.

“Yeah,” Louis whispers into Harry’s mouth. “Yeah, I want it. Want you.”

“How d’you want me?” Harry replies instantly. He doesn’t give Louis a chance to answer his question though. Instead, he kisses him until Louis forgets there even was a question in the first place. He gets lost in the slick press of lips and soft moans, rocking his hips against Harry’s hand, chasing the pressure and friction until he’s dizzy with lust. “Lou,” Harry murmurs, and Louis can’t wait any longer.

“Just,” he grunts, moving his hands to the front of his trousers and practically tearing them open. “Just touch me,” he pleads, letting his head fall back as Harry takes over. He rests his forehead against Louis’ jaw and tugs Louis’ underwear down so his cock is exposed. It’s fully hard as Harry thumbs the tip, coaxing Louis’ foreskin back and a whine from his lips.

“Touch you how?” Harry asks, and Louis wants to snap at him for asking so many fucking questions, but he’s distracted by Harry wrapping his fingers around Louis’ shaft and stroking him lightly.

“Like that,” Louis gasps, bucking his hips into Harry’s fist. “Yeah, that’s – that’s good,” he chokes out, breathless. Harry’s fingers loosen for a moment and he spits into his palm, then goes back to jerking off Louis with quicker motions. It’s not that effective, but Louis likes the rough edge anyway and the build-up to this has got him halfway to his orgasm anyway. He’s been on this ship for weeks in close quarters with Harry, who he’s been attracted to from the get go, and finding private time to wank isn’t easy. Now, after days of being riled up with stolen kisses, Louis’ on the edge after just a few short minutes of Harry stroking his cock.

“Are you…?” Harry asks when Louis’ hips jerk erratically and high-pitched whines are torn from his throat. He nods, the tension in his abdomen tightening like a coil until it snaps, and he’s coming with a loud cry and coating Harry’s fist. “Fuck, Lou.”

Harry surges forward to kiss Louis while he keeps his fist moving, drawing Louis’ orgasm out until he’s lax against Harry’s mouth.

“That was quick,” Harry says with a grin, wiping his come-covered hand on the bed sheets.

Louis laughs weakly, angling his head to fit between Harry’s neck and shoulder. “It’s been a while,” he murmurs, raising one hand to trail down Harry’s other shoulder and along his arm. Harry’s skin is warm and soft, and Louis wants to put his mouth on it. “I’ve wanted it for a long time.”

“Lou,” Harry breathes.

“Lie back,” Louis instructs, sitting up and guiding Harry on to his back. He straddles his hips and trails his fingers along his chest while Harry watches with dark eyes. He stays quiet as Louis works, his fingers circling Harry’s nipples and following the dark line of his tattoos. With the first press of Louis’ lips to Harry’s chest, Harry exhales gently, but stays still – as if too much movement will cause Louis to leave. Louis smirks to himself, caressing Harry’s soft sides with his hands. He wants Harry to buck and whine and be as obscene as Louis was, to lose himself that easily.

“You’re beautiful, you know,” Harry murmurs as Louis kisses down his chest, towards the inked butterfly and laurels on his hips, towards the sparse trail of hair leading beneath his trousers. “Always thought so. When I first saw you on my ship, I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

Louis shuffles down Harry’s body and places a kiss just above his waistband, flicking his gaze up to meet Harry’s. “I didn’t want to be so attracted to you,” he confesses, though it’s not like he kept it a secret. “Worked out for me in the end though, didn’t it?”

“Sure did,” Harry laughs, and Louis cups him through his underwear. There’s a damp spot on the front where his cock has leaked through the fabric. Louis wipes his thumb over it, pressing down on his dick through his pants and grinning when Harry hisses. He taps Harry’s hip, gesturing for him to raise up so Louis can tug his pants down to mid-thigh, just enough for Louis to uncover his cock.

“Try to keep your hips still, yeah?” Louis asks, settling himself on his belly between Harry’s thighs, his head ducked so his lips brush against the delicate skin of his hips. “Been a while.”

“You don’t—” Harry’s cut off by his own grunt when Louis peppers kisses up the side of Harry’s cock, right up to the wet tip. It’s thick and hot in Louis’ hand, keeping it steady, and slick fluid leaks from the tip the more Louis tongues at it. He’s never had anyone this drippy before, but Louis finds he likes it. He wraps his lips around the head of Harry’s cock and sucks, pressing his tongue to the underside and delighting in the rough moan it draws from Harry.

He sinks lower, taking more of Harry’s cock into his mouth but stops himself from going too far otherwise he’ll be choking around Harry’s dick and that’s not how he wants this blowjob to go. Harry’s hips keep twitching, like it’s a struggle to keep them still, so Louis uses the hand not wrapped around the base of Harry’s dick to press them into the mattress. “Keep still,” he instructs, murmuring the words into Harry’s cock.

“I’m trying,” Harry replies, voice breaking on the last word as Louis swallows him down again. He holds his head in place for a moment, letting his mouth surround as much of Harry’s shaft as he can manage to cover before he starts bobbing his head. The drag of his lips over Harry’s cock has Harry’s hands balling into fists in the sheets, his back arching as Louis keeps his hips pressed down. “Lou, _Lou_ ,” he moans, the litany falling from his lips. “Fuck, you’re so good.”

“Come on,” Louis whispers, pulling off Harry’s cock and switching to wanking him off with quick, easy motions. “Wanna see you come.”

Harry does, throwing his head back and moaning obscenely loud. He spills over Louis’ fist and paints his own chest with come, obscuring the butterfly and laurels that were just crowning Louis’ head. He’s a vision as he lies there, catching his breath with bitten-red lips and a matching flush across his skin. It’s everything Louis wanted and more.

“C’mere,” Harry says weakly, lifting his head off the pillows just enough to peer at Louis through half-lidded eyes. “Wanna cuddle.”

“Shouldn’t we clean up first?” Louis asks, but he crawls up the bed and fits himself against Harry’s side anyway, his arm thrown across Harry’s chest.

“Time for that in the morning,” Harry mumbles, already yawning. Louis usually prides himself on not being quite so useless after sex, but it’s late and Harry’s lethargy is contagious. Louis can already feel his eyes drooping. He just hums in reply to Harry, wriggling until he’s properly comfortable and falls asleep listening to Harry’s even breaths.

***

“How do you know where the temple is?” Louis asks, holding Harry’s compass in his lap. They’ve been travelling West for days now, out of the areas Louis knows. Harry still hasn’t told any of the crew where they’re going, just that it’s for something important. Louis doesn’t think they understand exactly how important this is.

“It’s called a map, Lou,” Harry says, throwing a grin over his shoulder to Louis. “Pretty handy little inventions. Think you’ve heard of them?”

“Alright, alright,” Louis laughs. He kicks out with his leg bats Harry’s thighs, holding himself steady on the crate he’s sitting on. “Where’d you get this map though? It just conveniently happens to have a giant x over this hidden temple, yeah?”

Harry snorts and shakes his head, adjusting the position of the wheel. “It was my dad’s old map. One of the ones I was looking at when you burst into my room for the first time, actually. He already plotted where this temple is. Handy.”

“Did he ever want to break the curse?” Louis asks, keeping his voice down. They’re not alone on the top deck, all the crew working in various stations. The weather has been good so far, always is in the heat of summer, but Zayn predicts there’ll be rougher seas within the next day. The thought of another storm and what it might bring has Louis gripping his seat a little tighter, breathing in and out evenly to try and quell the nausea.

“I think he planned on it one day, maybe,” Harry says without much conviction. Louis guesses it wasn’t something Harry talked about with his dad a lot. “He liked living too much to let it depend on the ship, but then I guess he wasn’t that bothered. Or maybe he thought he couldn’t, I don’t know. He never wanted to talk to me about it. Every time I’d try, he’d shut me out. Eventually, I stopped trying.”

“Shitty of him to leave you like this,” Louis says, watching Harry flounder for some justification. Louis thinks it’s more than shitty, actually, but Harry’s dad was still family, he guesses.

“Shitty of who to leave him like that?” Niall asks, popping up out of nowhere and levelling them both with an uncharacteristically stern look. Louis flinches, Niall’s surprise presence catching him unawares.

“How much did you hear?” Harry asks, gripping the wheel a little tighter. Louis thought they were talking quietly, thought they’d be safe from eavesdroppers, but on a ship like this, he really should have known better.

“So it’s a curse that you’re hiding,” Niall says, a statement more than a question. Louis watches Harry carefully, waiting to see where he’ll take this. He’s more than willing to lie to Niall if Harry wants him too, but at this point, that seems pretty pointless. “Is it you who’s cursed?”

Harry hesitates, biting his lip and looking out to the main deck. “Jeff!” he calls out, waving him over and stepping back from the wheel when Jeff jogs over. “You got a compass? Good, I need you to keep sailing West. Alert me if the weather changes.”

With that, Harry gestures for Niall to follow him to his cabin. Louis tags along, pocketing Harry’s compass and slipping into the cabin behind the pair. Niall sits on the bed, his legs crossed in front of him, while Harry paces back and forth the room, hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers.

“You know, I knew you were hiding something,” Niall says eventually, leaning forward so he can catch Harry’s arm mid-stride. “And you know I’d never push you about it, not when you’re still keeping my secret after so long. But Harry, I’m your First Mate. You can tell me anything.”

Harry stands in front of Niall, letting his arm fall limp in Niall’s grasp, and sighs heavily. “I’m cursed,” he says quietly. Immense pride wells in Louis’ stomach as the words fall from Harry’s lips. “My father was cursed before me, and when he died, it transferred on to me.”

Niall’s face contorts into a sympathetic frown, and Louis thinks it might be his cue to leave. He rests a hand on Harry’s shoulder, catching his attention, and wordlessly presses his thumb to Harry’s arm. Harry gives him a soft smile and ducks his head to kiss Louis’ cheek. He whispers, “thank you,” in Louis’ ear.

Louis slips out of the cabin just as easily as he entered, and sets off to find Liam. It’s been a full day since he’s terrorised him, and Louis could use a laugh or two to lighten the mood.

Louis’ still with Liam later that afternoon, when Harry and Niall finally emerge from Harry’s cabin. Harry calls all the crew to the helm and clears his throat, standing in front of them all.

“A lot of you have probably been wondering about the stops we’ve been making recently, and why we haven’t been straying too far from the islands of Greece and going further into the Med.” Harry pauses, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear and surveying the crew with a steady eye. Louis can see the nervous tremor in his fingers and the slight bruising of his lips where he’s been pulling at them with his teeth. “The reason for that is that I’m trying to break a curse. Not many of you knew my father, but he wasn’t always a pleasant man. A witch cursed him when he was still alive, and when he died, the curse transferred to me. While _The Rose_ lives, so do I, but if something happens to the ship, then…” Harry trails off; the crew are silent as they take in the implication of his words. Even now, Louis can’t imagine someone like Harry, with such a bright smile and lively personality, dead. The thought of not having Harry in his life is unthinkable and fucking terrifying.

Louis zones out while Harry answers the crew’s questions, apologising for lying to them when all he’s demanded from them is honesty and cooperation. It’s dinner by the time they’re finished – everyone satisfied that Harry’s revealed everything and their offerings to help out in whatever way they can – and Harry takes his food away from the crew, eating in his cabin. Louis eats with the crew, giving Harry some time to himself, but he finishes early and goes to see Harry anyway.

Harry’s reading on his bed when Louis walks in, shutting the door quietly behind him. Louis climbs up next to him and aligns himself with Harry’s side, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder.

“I’m proud of you, y’know,” he says quietly, feeling Harry’s lean into him. “You didn’t have to tell them about the curse, but you did and I’m so proud of you.”

“I owed it to my crew,” Harry says simply. “They’re my family, they deserve the truth. And it helps, not worrying about a potential mutiny when we go to ports that don’t make sense for us to visit without the knowledge of the curse. Niall was good about it, he put my mind at ease that no one would leave when they found out about it.”

“Everyone here loves you,” Louis tells him, looking up at Harry and wondering if he can tell how much Louis is including himself in that, if Harry can tell how much Louis loves him just by looking at him. Louis hopes he can. “No one would leave you for something that’s not your fault. And we’re so close to breaking the curse anyway, just a few more days.”

Harry tilts his head back against the headboard and shuts his eyes. “It’s strange, thinking that in a few days I’ll be free. Almost like I don’t want to think about it too much, in case something goes wrong. Who knows what could happen between now and the next port.”

“Don’t say that,” Louis scolds, nudging Harry’s shoulder. “Think positive. Like… what’s the first thing you’ll do when you’re free? When you can do anything you want without worrying about _The Rose_ keeping intact.”

Harry thinks, idly biting his lip. “Egypt. Yeah, I’d go to Egypt first. Then see where everyone else wants to go. I wanna travel outside of the Med, see what else is out there in the world. Go where people don’t know me, where we can be travellers, not pirates.”

“Well, don’t reject the piracy just yet. You’ll need to fund your travels somehow, won’t you?” Louis teases.

Harry laughs, shifting so his arm is wrapped around Louis’ waist, pulling him closer. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, yeah? Breaking the curse is a pretty solid goal to achieve first, anyway.”

“We’ll do it,” Louis assures him, bringing his hand up to cradle Harry’s jaw and pull him in for a kiss. “You’ll be free.”

***

It’s raining the morning they dock at the Western edge of Crete, at the town Palaiochora. The seas aren’t too rough, so lowering the anchor in the tiny village is easy enough, but Harry’s jittery and tense, and Louis watches him snap at the crew only to layer it with profound apologies in the next second.

Hecate’s temple is hidden away in the forests, up on top of the hills on the other side of town. It’s less than a day’s travel on foot, Harry calculated, but they’re eager to set off as soon as possible.

“Promise you’ll take care of her while I’m gone,” Harry says to Niall, the only one left on the ship for this port. Louis rocks back on his heels, waiting for Harry to leave him be so they can actually _go_.

“This port is no different, Cap,” Niall says, rolling his eyes affectionately. “We’ll keep you alive, don’t worry.”

Harry hesitates, so Louis takes his hand and squeezes. Sure, this port isn’t any different and the likelihood of something bad happening in a town this small is slim, but it _feels_ different. There’s a tension in the air, between Harry and everyone around him. It’s like _The Rose_ itself knows something big is happening. Louis can’t shake the tremors in his hand, either.

“Come on,” Louis whispers. Harry hugs Niall tightly and then they’re off, walking down the gangway and into town. The market is quiet with the rain hammering down now, so there aren’t any distractions to stop them cutting through the quickest way they can. When the houses peter off, fields stretch across the landscape, mud squelching under their boots.

 **“** How often do you think they get rain here?” Harry asks as they walk, the beginning of the forests in sight on the opposite side of the fields.

“More than they’re prepared for apparently,” Louis answers half-heartedly. The conversation is dull, they both know that, but Louis thinks Harry just needs to keep his mind from getting carried away with ‘what ifs’. “Wanna hear a joke?”

“Sure.”

“Who’s a pirate’s greatest love?” Louis asks, grinning as Harry smiles with recognition. “It be the sea.”

Harry bursts out laughing like he can’t help himself, and Louis’ cheeks hurt with all the smiling. “Using my own jokes against me,” Harry giggles. “Truly terrible.”

“Thought you’d appreciate the fact I remembered,” Louis adds. Bad jokes are Harry’s speciality. Louis knew it’d put a smile on his face, even as they walk towards the temple. It takes them a good chunk of the day to reach the temple on foot, making their way up the trampled foot-path through the woods winding around trees and puddles and little clearings all the way to the temple in the centre of the forest. When it finally comes into view, Louis and Harry come to a halt in unison, wiping the rain from their faces.

The temple is taller than Louis expected, but still not so tall that it surpasses the surface of the trees. Moss covers the faded marble pillars, and the steps are chipped and nowhere near as smooth as he’s sure they once were. Still, the building radiates power and energy through the worn down exterior. Even the scenes carved into the stone at the front of the slanted roof have Louis’ spine tingling. Just like with the mermaid’s lake, he can feel the sacredness of the grounds here, like the eyes of the gods themselves are on him.

“We should go inside,” Louis whispers, finally breaking his gaze from the temple to look at Harry. He’s staring at the building with awe etched into his features, long fingers nervously fiddling with his own rings.

“Yeah.” Harry shifts the bag on his back, squaring his shoulders. He takes the first step forward, towards the stone stairs, and Louis falls in place beside him.

Inside the temple it’s unusually cold for somewhere this far south. There’s no light when the heavy doors shut behind them, and the only sound is the patter of rain hitting the stone roof and their footsteps echoing through the empty room. It’s unnerving to say the least, and Louis has to stop himself looking back over his shoulder out of fear of something creeping up behind them.

“I’m gonna light some torches,” Harry whispers in Louis’ ear, and Louis’ grateful that Harry couldn’t see Louis flinch. Harry strikes his flint and lights one of the candles they brought in their leather bag. Louis stays put as Harry slowly brings light to the temple, setting as many of the torches sporadically placed around the room aflame.

There’s a statue of Hecate in the very centre, raised on a podium so the marble – twice the size of the average man – is looming over both Harry and Louis. She’s standing straight with her arms outstretched, two stone torches in her hands, and her clothing carefully carved out of stone. Even with the blank look on her face, Louis can’t help but feel that she’s watching them carefully, waiting to see what they’ll do next.

“You should stand back,” Harry instructs, walking back to Louis and shrugging the bag off his shoulders and clutching it tightly. His grip is so tight that his knuckles pale. Louis nods and darts forward to kiss Harry on the lips for a brief moment, before pulling back and stepping to the side.

He tugs the sleeves of his shirt, still damp from the rain, over his wrists, and watches Harry set about the ritual. He explained it to Louis more than once, that for as powerful as the curse is, the ritual to break it is really quite simple. There’s no sacrifice, just the offering of an object belonging to a cursed individual – the more powerful, the better, so Harry using Cassandra’s necklace is one point in his favour – and its ritual cleansing with blessed water. A short prayer to Hecate, and then… Louis doesn’t know what happens then. He supposes it depends on whether Hecate deems Harry worthy of having his curse broken.

Harry kneels in front of the statue and sets a thin cloth sheet that Niall made for him on the cold floor. He lays Cassandra’s necklace in the centre, the jewel hanging from the delicate chain shines in the faded light of the torches. Harry withdraws the vial of water from the fountain next, and starts murmuring a prayer under his breath as he pours it over the necklace. It fizzes and spits when the water hits the metal, but Harry keeps pouring until the final drop spills over from the vial, his lips moving all the while.

Louis holds his breath as Harry sets the vial on the floor, and they wait for something, anything, to happen. The amulet keeps spitting back the sacred water, the only sound now in the otherwise deathly quiet temple, and then all of a sudden, out of nowhere, a woman steps out from behind the statue.

Louis can’t look at her for very long; his eyes start to hurt as he tries, but he stares long enough to know that she’s the spitting image of the statue she appeared from. There’s no way she’s anyone other than the goddess, Hecate. The torches flare even brighter, and there’s something divine in the air now. Louis tries to move, to step closer to Harry and rest a reassuring hand on his arm, but he finds that he can’t – he can’t do anything but wince as he tries to watch Hecate stride closer to Harry, still kneeling at the steps.

“Rise, Captain Styles,” Hecate says lowly. Her voice is smooth but Louis’ jaw clenches anyway; the undertone sounds like nails dragging on chalk. “What is it that you are asking me for?”

Harry lifts himself from the ground shakily, eyes trained on Hecate, standing before him. “ _Hecate Soteira_ , I’ve come to ask that you break the curse affecting me because of my father’s actions. I – I believe I’m worthy of being a free man, if you would grant me this request.”

“Worthy?” Hecate echoes, shrill laughter following her words. Louis lowers his gaze, unsure how Harry’s still standing tall. “What makes you think _you_ are worthy, Captain Styles? You, who have murdered a fellow man. You, who have broken oaths you swore you would uphold. You, who have stolen and lied and committed offence after offence of piracy. Captain Styles, you are _anything_ but worthy.”

“ _Please_ ,” Harry begs, falling to his knees and reaching out to grab the dark fabric of Hecate’s dress. “Please, I beg of you. I just want to be free.”

“Do not think you can supplicate me, Captain Styles,” Hecate snaps, stepping backwards so Harry’s hands fall from her dress. “You will be wasting your time and energy, just as you have already wasted mine. I have lived longer than you can imagine. I know better than to show compassion for foolish mortals. It’s is beneficial to no one. I will not free you because you asked for it, but I will take something else in return for severing your connection to _The Rose_.”

“Anything,” Harry promises. Louis’ blood run colds with the word.

“A life,” Hecate says, and Louis’ dread amplifies. He tries to force his body to co-operate, to move forward towards Harry so he can drag him out of the temple, tries to use his voice to do anything, but he can’t. He just _can’t_. “The life of your friend over there.”

Harry’s head whips towards him, horror twisting his expression. “Anything but that,” he says without thinking – while Louis struggles against his invisible restraints to get closer to Harry. “Please. I won’t sacrifice Louis for my freedom.”

Hecate makes a noise, stepping closer to Harry again. “What if I promised you more than just your freedom in return for his life? You could have your freedom, and all the riches you could ever need, and the fiercest reputation in the world. Everything you ever wanted and more could be yours, in exchange for his life. Will you take my offer?”

“No,” Harry almost yells, his voice cracking audibly. Louis thinks his heart might be shattering into pieces with it. “I love him. I won’t sacrifice him for anything.”

Hecate reaches out and cradles Harry’s jaw, a gesture that should be intimate but is filled with malice. “What if it is his life, or yours? He can go from this temple without a single mark against his name, but you will not outlive the day. What will your choice be then?”

Louis tries to scream with all his might, but no sound echoes through the temple. He’s stuck, useless, in his own body while Harry bargains away his life. There’s nothing he can do but watch and listen to his heart break.

“You may as well take me to Hades now,” Harry says, curling his hands into fists, tears streaking his cheeks. “I won’t sacrifice him.”

“Then so be it,” Hecate says simply. She reaches out to caress his forehead, and in the next instant she disappears and Harry falls to the floor, limp and unmoving.

Louis drops to his knees, suddenly able to move again. He stares at the space where Harry’s body lays, the amulet still drenched with water on the marble steps.

“Harry,” he chokes out, drawing in a ragged breath. His chest feels tight and tears prick at the backs of his eyes and Harry is… he’s not moving. He looks like a corpse but he can’t be. Louis won’t let him be dead.

He scrambles to where Harry’s lying and rolls him over so he’s lying on his back. His eyes are glassy and vacant, his lips parted in a dying breath. His skin is still warm as Louis ghosts his fingers over his cheek, his vision blurring with the tears spilling on to his face.

“ _Hecate_!” Louis screams when he finds his voice, clinging to Harry now, desperately wishing for him to come back. “ _Hecate_!” he screams again. He wants to beg for her to take him instead, to bring Harry back. Louis would do anything, promise anything, just to have him back, but all he can do is cling to Harry’s lifeless body and sob.

Eventually, when Louis has screamed and wailed at the statue, his throat becomes too sore to keep it up for much longer. _He’s dead_ , runs circles in Louis’ mind. Harry’s dead; he sacrificed his life to keep Louis safe and Louis can’t… he can’t believe Harry is _dead_ , that he never got to travel to Egypt and out of the Mediterranean, that Louis never got to take him to meet his family and that he never got to tell Harry he loves him.

Louis doesn’t know how long he kneels there crying. Eventually, his tears stop falling and his head starts to hurt. He becomes aware of the ache in his knees and the chill deep in his bones from the damp clothes. Numbness sets in, and Louis knows he needs to get back to _The Rose_ and tell the crew what happened. They need to give Harry a proper goodbye.

Harry’s dead. He’s not coming back. Louis needs to accept that.

He curls his fingers in the lapels of Harry’s coat, unwilling to touch his skin now for fear of finding it cold, when suddenly Harry’s chest heaves with a sharp inhale and he blinks rapidly. Louis watches in shock, heart hammering, as Harry splutters and looks around wildly until his gaze – as animated and intense as Louis remembers – settles on Louis.

“H—Harry?” Louis chokes out, scarcely believing what he’s seeing.

“Louis,” Harry rasps. Familiar warmth floods Louis at the sound of his voice, and Harry brings his hand up to stroke Louis’ cheek in an all too familiar motion.

“You’re—” Louis tries, cut off by his shock and another sob racking his chest. “You were – and now you’re—”

“I’m alive, Lou,” Harry replies, slow and deep, voice rumbling through his chest and echoing in Louis’ bones.

“You _died_.” Louis’ a breath away from fainting, nearing hysterics again because Harry’s alive but that’s impossible – Hecate killed him, took him to Hades. Louis screamed and cried for _hours_ over Harry’s corpse. No mortal just comes back from that, not even Harry. “You—you were _dead_.”

“And now I’m alive,” Harry says, finally breaking into a grin. He lifts himself off Louis’ lap and into a sitting position, then pulls Louis close, wrapping his arms around his waist. “Hecate said the real test of my worthiness was whether or not I sacrificed you, someone I love, for something trivial. When I refused her offers every time, and I didn’t change my mind, even when I was in the Underworld, she deemed me worthy of having the curse broken.” Damp tears drip onto Louis’ shoulder where Harry buries his face in Louis’ neck, and his voice cracks when he says, “I’m free, Lou. I’m _free_.”

“You’re—” Louis breaks off, squeezing Harry tightly, as if he’s about to slip out of Louis’ grip at any second. Everything is overwhelming right now and Louis can’t _breathe_ , but he can hold Harry in his arms and know that he’s safe. “ _Fuck_.”

“I’m free,” Harry says, pulling back and cradling Louis’ face tenderly. There are tears rolling down his cheeks, but the smile isn’t marred in the slightest, and Louis can’t help but mirror it through his own tears. “I love you.”

Louis cries even harder, surging forwards to kiss Harry’s lips, desperate, closed-mouth kisses that are all Louis can manage right now. “I love you too. I thought I’d never get to tell you how much I love you.”

“It’s okay,” Harry whispers, slowing their kisses to something more intimate, less frantic. “It’s okay. We’re okay now, Lou. We’re free.”

***

“You know,” Harry drawls, tucking a curl behind his hair and sneaking a glance at Louis. “I think I’m more scared now than I was when we went to Hecate’s temple.”

Louis scoffs. “Well, my mum’s scary enough to rival a goddess,” he jokes, staring at the small house in front of them. He keeps his tone light, but he knows what Harry means. It’s been months since he’s been home and now that he’s here he’s fucking terrified to knock on the door. He’s changed so much during the months he’s been away, and it’d be stupid to expect his family to still be the same. Fuck, what if they don’t even live here anymore?

“Do you want to knock, or should I?” Harry asks.

Louis takes a deep breath, and steps forward. “I will,” he says, following it up with a sharp knock on the door. It looks just how he remembered, the smooth wood polished to perfection. Someone’s been keeping it in good condition while he’s gone.

Barely a moment passes before his mum opens the door. Her jaw drops when she focuses on Louis, her hand still hovering over the door handle. She looks healthy, Louis notices, which is a good sign. There aren’t bags under her eyes like he remembers when he was young, and her face is full enough that she must be eating well. If Jay is healthy, his sisters definitely are too. It’s promising, and quells some of the nerves eating away at Louis’ stomach.

“Louis?” Jay sounds like she can’t believe it, her voice trembling. “Oh, Louis.”

In the next moment, Louis’ being scooped up into a hug so tight he can barely breathe. Jay whimpers into his shoulder, her hands digging into his loose shirt, and Louis has to bite his lip to stop himself crying as well. Nearly everything he’s been missing about being home is right here in his mother’s arms, and fuck, the tears are welling up now because he’s missed her so fucking much.

“I can’t believe you came back,” she sobs. “I hoped but—” Jay pulls back and wipes her eyes with one hand, the other still entwined in Louis’ shirt. “Come in, please, let’s get settled.”

Jay’s eyes flicker to Harry, as if noticing his presence for the first time. Louis laughs, taking Harry’s hand in his. It’s probably the first time someone looked at the pair of them and focused on _him_ first, instead of Harry in his flashy clothes and expensive swords. “Mum, this is my boyfriend, Captain Harry Styles of _The Rose_.”

“Captain Styles?” Jay repeats, staring at him until she gathers her wits. “I’m Jay, Louis’ mother. Pleasure to meet you. Come on in.”

“Likewise, Ma’am,” Harry says, bowing. Louis rolls his eyes affectionately, and follows Jay into the house.

There are subtle differences in the decoration that have him knocking into vases on podiums and hurrying to right them, or sniffing to try and pinpoint unfamiliar scents. He knew in his mind that things would have changed, he _expected_ this, but it’s jarring to see the physical effects of his absence written all over the walls of his old home. Still, the things that remain the same are as comforting as ever. He can hear his sisters talking loudly through the walls, and the clay vase he tried to make when he was young is sitting right next to the hearth, on proud display, despite the wonkiness of the handles.

Jay gestures for them to sit in the chairs, and sits on the opposite side of the main table – one Louis remembers carving it himself. Jay’s fingers skim over the worn down edging of the table now, like they always do when she’s overwhelmed.

“I should probably start at the beginning, right?” Louis rests his hands on the table, and starts talking. He leaves out a few of the near-death experiences just like when he wrote her letters, doesn’t want to worry his mum too much, and when his sisters hear his voice and come barrelling in, there might be a few more tears again. Harry chips in every now and then, and answers the onslaught of questions directed to him.

“Are you staying?” Jay asks when the conversation settles, and Louis thinks she already knows that answer to that question. Harry was right, after all. One taste of the freedom on the sea, and the land holds little appeal.

“No,” Louis says sadly, shaking his head. “We’re heading off at first sunrise tomorrow. Setting sail for Egypt. It’s supposed to be beautiful there.”

“So soon?” Jay can’t keep the hurt from her voice, and Louis’ heart aches. It _is_ soon, but there are so many places for them to visit, so many other crew members who have families or loved ones to see, and they’ve only got so much time.

“You’ve been gone so long,” Lottie adds, narrowing her brows at Louis. The first time he left, it wasn’t his fault – now it’s entirely on him.

“We’ll still write,” Louis assures her. “I’ll send money when I can, and I’ll be back again at some point. Hopefully for longer then.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Jay says, like it’s all she can manage right now. Louis thinks that’s fair enough.

He doesn’t leave his family be for the rest of the evening, trying to squeeze as much catching up as he can in just a couple of hours. It’s good to be home, even as fleeting as their visit is. When morning rolls around, and Harry and Louis are standing outside the house, Louis has to tear himself from his family’s grasp. If they could, he’s sure they wouldn’t let him go.

“It’s not a final farewell,” he says, laughing to stop himself from crying. “I’ll see you again, okay?”

“Be safe,” Jay says, kissing cheek fiercely. There’s another round of goodbyes, and Jay turns to Harry and tells him, in no uncertain terms, that he’s to look after Louis, no matter what.

“I will,” Harry replies sincerely. Louis thinks back to Harry protecting him with his life in the temple and suppresses a shudder. He knows how far Harry will go to keep him safe, and though he’d do the same, it doesn’t exactly sit well with him.

By the time they start the walk from Louis’ old home back to the docks, towards _The Rose_ , the sun’s already rising. Harry reaches out for Louis’ hand, and he accepts it readily, squeezing tight as they walk.

“Are you alright?” Harry asks softly. “Leaving them so soon… it can’t be easy.”

Louis shrugs. “It’s what we decided on,” he answers. “I’ll see them again, and honestly? I think it’d hurt more the longer I stay. If we fell into a routine here, it’d be harder to leave. And I know how much you hate being away from the sea.”

“There’s nothing like the freedom of the sea,” Harry says, tilting his head back and letting the sun shine over his skin. He angles towards it like a cat stretching its back, and Louis leans up to kiss the corner of his lips. “Ready to set sail, love?”

Louis beams. “Absolutely.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> there's a tumblr post [here](http://achilleus.tumblr.com/post/141981735689/) that can be reblogged, if you fancy


End file.
